


Let Me Ask Some Questions

by supremegreendragon



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Bruce pinning for Clark, Comedy, Developing Relationship, Dorks in Love, Flirting, Humor, Language, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Playboy, fatherly!Alfred, jealous!Joker, might be onesided, one-sided, one-sided JokerxBatman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-06-27 12:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15685134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supremegreendragon/pseuds/supremegreendragon
Summary: Clark Kent tries to interview the flirtatious Bruce Wayne. Key word being 'try.'





	1. Chapter 1

Clark wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he was invited into Wayne Manor for an exclusive interview regarding Wayne’s newest pet project in Metropolis, but it wasn’t this. Instead of crawling with attractive servants in skin tight outfits as would be expected of the playboy, there was only a single butler to greet him. The old man bowed.

“Alfred Pennyworth, at your service, Mr. Kent. Master Bruce is out but has informed me that he’ll be back shortly. Would you care for something to drink while you wait?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Pennyworth. I can come back later, if he’s busy.”

The butler gave him a blank stare. It sort of reminded Clark of one of those old horror movies where the servants of a haunted house tended to act as creepy as possible. As a matter of fact, this whole place gave him that feeling. It wasn’t infested with cobwebs or anything. Actually it was very well kept, but it was also empty. Silent.

Lonely.

Clark wanted to leave. 

“I assure you that he’ll be back soon. Please, make yourself at home.”

The butler led him to a large living room. The white couch fit like a glove beside its two armchair bodies and the glass table in front of it. The room had a modern day feel. Black and white, with just a touch of color thanks to a vase filled with red roses.

Alfred gestured him to sit down. Clark thanked him and did so. He barely registered Alfred handing him a remote.

“I will inform Master Bruce that you arrived. Please watch whatever you’d like.”

With that, the butler left. Clark felt unsure of himself. Watch someone else’s television? This was supposed to be an interview, not a friendly visit.

Clark decided that he would make use out of this unexpected extra time. He opened his briefcase and pulled out his notes. One paper caught his eye. While he had been researching Bruce Wayne, Clark found out that this very house had been attacked by the Joker a year ago. He had been causing trouble until Batman showed up to stop him. Since then, Bruce Wayne has had countless people trying to get his opinion on having both the vigilante and the criminal in his house on the same night.

But it was hard to get a straight answer. Bruce Wayne would either change the topic or refuse to speak altogether. The man was known to have a playful attitude during interviews, so this silence was unusual for him. One reporter had remarked how Wayne seemed agitated that the question was brought up.

“It was like he was angry that I asked him that,” the reporter was quoted as saying, “I don’t think he has a high opinion of either Joker or the Batman.”

Clark had his work cut out for him, because the Batman was exactly the person he wanted to talk about. The pet project was actually what Bruce Wayne himself called it. In reality, it was a little more grandiose than that.

“You look like you’re having fun,” a playful voice came from behind him, “I knew Alfred wouldn’t let me down.”

“Oh,” startled, Clark nearly dropped his notes. He stood up, pushed his glasses closer to his eyes and extended his hand, “I apologize, Mr. Wayne. I didn’t hear you come in.”

Strange that was the truth, since Clark’s hearing could only be described as nothing sort of spectacular. Bruce could definitely sneak around, Clark would give him that.  
With a smile, Bruce took the offered hand in greeting. Clark noted that he was dressed in a fine brown suit that was probably worth more than Clark could afford in a week’s pay. Bruce smelled of exotic plants, and it didn’t take much guesswork to realize he was wearing cologne. But the most notable thing about him was how he practically leered at Clark. 

Clark really wanted to go home.

“I like to surprise people from behind,” Wayne said.

“You do that often?”

“Only with people who are doing something illegal.”

The words caught Clark off guard. He arched a brow at the billionaire in front of him.

“And you think I’m doing something illegal?”

“I think it’s a crime for someone to look that good.”

Now Clark’s muted surprise showed entirely on his face. He had heard of Bruce Wayne’s penchants for flirting, but as far as he was aware, that only applied to pretty, young women. Clark only had one out of three of those qualifications. And every fight as Superman made him feel older, so he might not even be young for long either.

Bruce stared at him expectantly, clearly waiting for his reply. Clark cleared his throat.

“Well, would you like to get started?” he asked in an obvious attempt at changing the subject.

“Please, sit back down. Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Wayne. Really.”

After the pleasantries were over with, Bruce took a seat on one of the armchairs. Clark sat back down on the couch. The reporter grabbed his recording device and placed it on the table. Bruce eyed it for a moment, before setting his icy blue eyes back on Clark.

Clark tried not to think about the odd compliment Bruce gave about his appearance. Crossing his legs, he set the notepad on his lap, and prepped his pen for use.

“Now, your Project Arkham idea has gotten quite popular. Everyone’s talking about it, but for some reason, you haven’t said anything until now. I believe I’m one of the first people you’ve been willing to talk to about this.”

“The only one.”

Clark did a double take, “Pardon?”

Bruce seemed slightly more serious that before.

“You’re the only one who I’m speaking to about this.”

Clark was at a loss for words. Bruce spoke with such conviction that it was as if talking to Clark was the most important thing he had ever done in his life. Clark could feel those eyes boring into his own and his mouth went dry. Maybe he could use a drink after all.

“Is there a reason for that?” Clark asked.

The arrogant playboy smile returned. All trace of determination left Bruce’s face.

“I looked at pictures of all the reporters from Metropolis. Thought you had the cutest face.”

This was the single most unprofessional behavior that Clark had ever seen. Usually it was Lois that flew off the handle whenever someone mocked the notion of working. But right now, Clark could understand the reason for her rage. This was aggravating!

He forced himself to keep a straight face, hoping that Bruce didn’t notice his annoyance. If he really was the only one Bruce decided to talk to, then his boss would have his head if he messed this up.

“You’re too kind, Mr. Wayne. Anyway, the public wants to know where you got this idea to expand Arkham to Metropolis.”

Bruce’s smile turned hallow. 

“When my parents were killed, I asked the officer—a Mr. Jim Gordon—what would possess someone to do something so awful for just a wallet of cash and a pearl necklace. He told me something I never really forgotten. Gotham has a sickness. Crime is more rampant here than anywhere else in America. And despite its efforts, Arkham can only do so much with the patients they receive. So I figured that the best way to cure a severe disease is to clean up the area around it. I want to see if Arkham will do better somewhere else.”

It was the first time that Clark felt anything resembling respect for the man. Bruce wasn’t just speaking for show. It was obvious that there was a certain passion behind this. At least this man’s heart was in the right place, even if his downstairs brain wasn’t.

Clark’s voice softened, “And why did you choose Metropolis?”

“So, I can talk to all the pretty reporters about this,” Bruce grinned. He must’ve realized that was the wrong answer by the look Clark gave him, “Actually, it’s because I already have many connections there, as well as a cooperation stationed. It made the most sense to start there.”

Clark made sure to write every important detail down. His boss was going to love his next article. Hell, maybe even Lois will be impressed with him.

But now was the time for the tricky part of the discussion. He glanced back up at Bruce, only to notice that the billionaire had been eyeing him almost hungrily.

He was going to ignore that.

“With all due respect, Mr. Wayne. There are many people who find this project to be a little too optimistic to be real.”

“People describe me as optimistic?” Bruce seemed to find a lot of humor in that.

“Well, the idea at least. Anyway, the main thing that people point out is how Arkham has such a long record of escaping patients.”

Bruce looked as if he had been slapped.

“I know,” all trace of playfulness was gone, “Arkham’s not perfect. But I fully believe they can help, because they had in the past. And it’s not like the patients that are prone to escaping are ordinary ones.”

“I’ll give you that. Criminals like the Joker are extraordinary.”

“Extraordinarily disgusting,” the contempt in Bruce’s voice was nothing like anything Clark had ever heard.

Clark’s eyebrows raised all the way to the top of his head. He looked at the recorder. Was Bruce sure he wanted people to know he said that? The Joker had a history of being vengeful. There was even a time when he cut someone’s tongue out because she roasted him on a stand-up comedy routine.

Yet Bruce didn’t seem worried. Clark made a mental note to keep the recorder close after this interview.

“I can’t imagine living in the same town as him,” Clark barely registered that he was the one speaking, “It’s a good thing Gotham has Batman to keep it protected.”

Bruce suddenly tensed up, reminding Clark of how the topic was one the billionaire avoided. Clark assumed Bruce would try to change the subject. 

To his shock, Bruce remarked, “Batman is only a normal human. He can’t protect everyone.”

Why did he sound so sad? Clark almost wanted to drop his pen and paper and give him a big old hug. But he had a feeling that doing that would only encourage more flirting.  
Bruce straightened up. He offered Clark a soft smile.

“He’s not like your hero in Metropolis.”

Clark gripped at his pen.

“Superman has gone on record saying he doesn’t want to be considered anything more than a normal person.”

Bruce laughed at this, “A normal person who flies and can look through people’s clothes,” the playboy was back. Guess it didn’t really need any encouraging, “I think I would like that power personally.”

“Believe me, Mr. Wayne. I’m sure people are glad that you don’t.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Bruce asked in an unconvincing attempt at innocence.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Come on. Tell me what you mean,” playful again. What was with all this back and forth?

“Let’s just get back to the questions.”

“Sure. Let me ask you one now.”

Clark bit the inner part of his lip to keep from screaming. Bruce rubbed his chin as he inspected the reporter.

“Let’s see. Where’s your favorite place to be kiss?”

My ass! Clark wanted to say to get him to fuck off. But he refrained from saying that. Besides, odds are that the dumb playboy would take that as a weird kink. And Clark didn’t want to know if Bruce would actually try to take it literally.

“Mr. Wayne, I really think we should get back to business.”

“Hey now. I answered a few of your questions. I think it’s only fair you answer some of mine now.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Well, I guess I won’t answer anymore of yours either.”

Damn. It seemed that Bruce was really intent on getting Clark to play his game.

Clark said, “Forehead.”

“Sorry?”

“I like to be kissed on my forehead, I guess. I find it an endearing gesture.”

Bruce’s face turned a shade of pink. His smile spread like the Cheshire Cat’s from Alice in Wonderland.

“That’s pretty cute.”

“Okay,” Clark’s tone revealed that he was embarrassed, “How will you fund Project Arkham?”

“We’re planning a fundraiser between Gotham’s and Metropolitan’s elite. It will be hosted right where you’re sitting, Mr. Kent. I’ll be conversing with Lex Luthor more on this matter.”

Clark jotted this down, trying not to think of his arch-enemy’s name being mentioned.

“Okay. And wh—”

“Hold on a second,” Bruce said, “It’s my turn to ask a question.”

Don’t break the pen in half. Don’t break the pen in half.

“Fine,” Clark clenched his teeth.

Bruce seemed to take delight in his growing anger.

“Are you single?”

Clark blinked, “What?”

Bruce continued to smile, although his eyes had some sort of weird determination in them.

“Are you single?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Mr. Kent. I thought we agreed you would answer my questions if I answered yours.”

“I---Fine. Yes, I’m single.”

Bruce let out a breath that he must’ve been holding. 

“That’s good to hear.”

It was now obvious that Bruce was hoping to get into Clark’s pants. Clark hadn’t even realized the billionaire liked men. 

But Bruce Wayne could dream on. Clark might consider himself friendly, but he wasn’t one for casual sex. Clark had seen the tabloids about Bruce. He knew the man’s reputation for one-night stands, leaving many a broken heart in his wake.

Clark would not be another tally on this man’s quest to sleep with everyone in the world.

“My turn,” Clark said more forcefully than he meant to, “Who gave you this idea?”

“I had it in my head for a while. So, I guess me,” Bruce stared openly at the disbelieving look Clark gave him, “What? I have ideas every once in a while. Not often. But sometimes I pull through.”  
That made Clark crack up. Alfred came in the room just then. He was pushing a trolley with an ice-filled glass bowl. Sodas and waters chilled inside the container. Beside the beverages were a plate of sandwiches that had been cut into triangles, clearly intending to look pretty for the guest and host.

“I realize you have declined before, Mr. Kent. But I thought I’d bring some refreshments just in case you change your mind. I do hope you’ll eat too, Master Wayne. You missed breakfast and lunch. And knowing you, I’m certain you didn’t eat anything while you were out.”

The reporter couldn’t help but wonder about the relationship between the two. The way Alfred worried over Bruce’s eating habits made it seem more like that of a father and son, rather than boss and employee. 

The food looked really appetizing. Clark realized that he himself hadn’t eaten anything all day either, as he had been busy preparing for this interview. He also had to take care of some thugs before this. They had been trying to rob a pharmacy for some of its drugs. 

“Thank you, Alfred. Mr. Kent, let’s take a break. I want to think about my next question.”

Clark found that he couldn’t argue. Bruce must’ve realized that he was too shy to make the first move on the food, so he stood up and helped himself. Feeling a little more reassured, Clark followed his example, taking one triangle and one water in each hand. 

The water soothed his dry throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Bruce watched his Adam’s apple as he drank. He was probably enjoying seeing it bob up and down. Clark found he didn’t care too much. So long as he got some food, he wouldn’t complain.

The sandwich turned out to have ham, brie and some sort of spread that tasted faintly of apple. Bruce and Clark were both sitting on the couch at this point, and Clark only now realized how close they were. Bruce and he were almost touching. Another thing he registered was how Bruce’s hungry gaze only got more intense since they started eating. It required more and more effort for Clark to pretend he didn’t exist.

Finally, after the sandwich and water were all gone, Clark had no choice but to look back at his host. Why did his stomach keep flipping around like it was an Olympian gymnast? Clark had never felt this way before. 

If Bruce knew he was making Clark uncomfortable, he didn’t show it.

“I figured out my next question for you, Mr. Kent. Are you free tomorrow?”

Clark thought he was over being surprised. But he couldn’t even think of a proper reaction for this question. Bruce didn’t even ask it in a flirty way. He asked it as if his life depended on whatever answer Clark gave him. 

After the silence stretched on for a little too long, Bruce asked again.

“Well, Mr. Kent? Are you free tomorrow?”

“Are you…are you asking me out?”

Bruce smiled.

“I suppose you could say that. I’ll have to admit, I’ve never been with a man before. But you’re smart and attractive, so you’re just my type.”

Clark frowned, unable to know what to do with this information. He stood up. Confused, Bruce got up as well, staring at the reporter in confusion while Clark gathered his things.

“Mr. Wayne. I was trying to make it transparent that I wasn’t interested.”

“Did I say something wrong?”

You’ve said several things wrong.

But instead of saying that, Clark decided to be nice. 

“It’s not that. I find your love of protecting Gotham to be charming. And I give you the best of luck on your efforts. But I do not date anyone I interviewed. I make it a personal vow to never mix business and pleasure.”

“Pleasure, huh?” Bruce was smug. It made it harder to let the guy down gently when he was being arrogant.

“I should get going. Thank you for your time.”

He turned around to make his escape. But a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Wait a second, Mr. Kent. I wanted to invite you to the fundraiser.”

Clark did a double take.

“Me? Why me?”

“I want you to be there with me while I talk to Lex Luthor. Jot down anything we say. I think it will help the public feel more at ease with my so-called optimistic idea if they knew what people behind it were talking about.”

It made sense. But Clark couldn’t help but feel there was something else that Bruce wasn’t saying.

“And your decision to invite me has nothing to do with—”

“—Hey, I know when I’m rejected. I just figured that you could help me get Project Arkham off the ground. I’ll pay you for your efforts.”

“Thanks. But no thanks. I need to write this paper for the next article. But again, I wish you luck.”

Bruce looked as though he wanted to argue. However, Clark was quicker than the billionaire’s train of thought. He didn’t know why he practically rushed out of there.

Maybe he was worried that he would change his mind about Bruce’s invitation.

Or even about his date offer.


	2. Chapter 2

"You look like hell."

"Thanks, Lois."

"Just thought I'd make an observation. Have some. It should perk you up."

His friend handed him a cup of coffee, before sitting across from him. Clark stared at the blank document on the computer. Why couldn't words just leak out of his fingers? Writer's block could be a real bitch. He had all the information he needed but trying to form them into anything coherent was proving impossible.

"Thanks."

Taking a sip out of the deliciously hot stimulant was enough to put a smile on his face. Lois fidgeted with a cup of her own.

"So, did the billionaire play nice?"

"Don't know what you mean," Clark lied. His friend shot him a look.

"Mr. Wayne has recently announced he might be bisexual. So, I was wondering if he came onto you."

Clark paused, "When did he announce this?"

The reporter was surprised at himself for having missed this little detail. When it came to his research, Clark treated every client like a fascinating specimen that he had to dissect. Clark had gone through every article that so much as mentioned Wayne's name before even setting foot at the manor.

At least that was what he had thought.

"In Gotham's Weekly. How'd you miss that?" Lois seemed just as shocked with him as he did.

"I don't know."

"Well, did he come onto you?"

Clark couldn't meet her gaze, suddenly feeling very small in front of her.

"I guess you could say that," Clark gathered his nerve as his earlier frustrations returned to him, "He kept asking questions about my romance life, then he'd tried to take me out."

Lois cracked up laughing. Clark's face warmed with shame, as he sent her a tired look.

"It's not funny, Lois. I hated it."

"Yeah," she giggled into her cup, "Being hit on by a handsome, rich man can really be insulting."

"It could be if I was straight."

"You told me you weren't though."

"….That's not the point."

"What is going on?" a stern voice came from behind them. Clark looked up at Perry White, who was carrying a box of donuts that were probably all meant for him. His diet normally consisted of sugar and coffee, and nothing else. At least he had done away with the cigar. For now.

Perry turned to Lois accusingly.

"Kent needs to finish his story today, and you're stalling him."

Lois rolled his eyes. Meanwhile, Clark brewed over his boss's words in his head. Something about them didn't make a whole lot of sense.

"I need to finish it today? But chief-"

"-Don't call me chief-"

"-I thought I had at least two more days."

"No, Kent! You need to get ready for the fundraiser. You're going there."

He said it with such conviction that it was like he didn't realize his words would've perplexed Clark. The hero lost his voice for a moment, unsure of if he had heard correctly.

As if the words finally sprinted him into action, Clark shot out of his seat.

"Wait, chief! I didn't agree to this."

"What are you talking about? Bruce Wayne told me that you were willing to go to his fundraiser and get the scoop on him and Lex Luthor. Are you calling him a liar?"

Clark's eyes widened. The nerve of the man!

"Yes! I'm saying he's a damn liar! He asked me that, but I told him no. Where does he get off calling my own boss and lying about that?!"

Lois and Perry exchanged glances, each with their own look of shock. They had never seen the usually calm Clark Kent like this. Perry was the first to recover.

"Look, Kent. Wayne's all looks and no brains. If I had to guess, he literally didn't understand that you had declined."

Clark opened his mouth to speak, but his boss was on a roll. Perry cut him off before he could get a word out.

"But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that you're invited! Meaning you'll be one of a small handful of people from the press. And who you know where the rest of the press are from? Gotham fucking City! You are literally a goldmine right now. The only man in Metropolis that will bring the story home."

When Clark saw the raw emotion in his boss's eyes, he knew he had lost.

Bruce Wayne would get hell for this later.

"I understand, chief."

"'atta boy, Kent. Well, I'll be in my office."

When the man left, Lois turned back to Clark. She seemed concerned.

"I think you need more coffee."

Clark shook his head.

"Thanks for the offer, but I want to be able to sleep tonight."

"It's seven in the morning."

"Believe me, one more cup and I'll be up all night. Just thinking about Wayne's little stunt is making me worked up. The last thing I need is to be loaded on caffeine."

From the corner of his eye, he noted the worry etching across Lois' features. She played with a strand of her hair by rubbing it between her forefinger and thumb.

"Sounds to me like Playboy Wayne wants to take you to bed."

"Thanks, Lois. I didn't notice."

"No need to get snooty," she frowned.

Clark sighed. He finished his cup with one large swig.

"Sorry, Lois. I'm just really upset right now."

She accepted the apology with an awed smile.

"It is amazing to know Bruce Wayne is into you. When I found out he specifically asked for you, I was wondering if there was something more to it. But it was a hunch, really! I didn't think he would actually pull anything. Hell, I didn't know he was going to be so outspoken about being into men. It's a little charming, actually."

It looked like she was in la la land. It seemed that the idea of an attractive man flirting with Clark made her very happy. Clark tried not to think to hard on that fact.

"You didn't know he'd be open about it? You just told me that he declared himself bisexual!"

Suddenly guilty, Lois said, "I….lied."

The silence that followed them was long and awkward. Clark finally managed to break it.

"You lied?"

"Yeah….I wasn't sure you would've told me if he actually did flirt with you. So, I made it up to get you to talk. You're not mad, are you?"

Clark was too tired to be mad. He might need that extra coffee, after all.

 

The moment he entered the room, he felt underdressed, which was pretty bad, considering that he was wearing his best suit. The people were dolled up like they were all in a fashion competition. Clark had been to fancy-dos before, whenever he needed to get a scoop, but he had never seen anything like this.

Was the fundraiser that special to them?

Or were they all trying to impress Bruce Wayne?

He tried to ignore what might've been a small amount of jealousy. Clark needed to get to work.

"Excuse me, ma'am? Clark Kent from the Daily Planet. Can I ask you some questions?"

The middle-aged woman seemed more interested in her wine than Clark. However, she deemed him worthy enough of basic human interaction.

"I'd be delighted, Mr. Kent."

"What are your feelings on Project Arkham?"

"Atrocious. There's no way it could work."

"So….you're not going to donate?"

"Oh no, sweetheart. I'm planning on a thousand dollars myself."

Clark paused. He looked up from his notepad to see that the woman was serious.

"Forgive me for being forward. But why donate if you don't believe in the cause?"

She smiled dreamily, tilting her head and resting it on her palm. Clark could swear there was a blush on her face.

"I'll do anything for Bruce Wayne. I know I'm a little old for him, but a woman can dream."

Holy shit. She had absolutely no shame if she was going to gush over Bruce as if she was a teenage girl.

Clark forced a friendly smile as he wrote down her response.

"Thank you, Ms…?"

"Sofia Romas. I'm treasurer of RingStar Clothes Lines."

Nodding, Clark wrote her name next to her words. She didn't seem to mind the fact that she had just announced her crush on Bruce Wayne to the entire world. But then again, maybe everyone already knew, if she was this open about it to Clark.

"Thank you for your time. Sir?"

He headed toward a man who was chewing on one of those triangle sandwiches. Clark's mouth watered at the thought that it might've been Alfred who made those. The man could really make some tasty food. Clark didn't eat much, since water and the sun were the only two things that he needed to survive, but he was glad he had sampled Alfred's cooking. He might have another taste before he left the party.

"Clark Kent-"

"-The Daily News, right?"

Clark was caught off guard.

"How did you know?"

The man's smile was so wide, Clark thought it would outgrow his face. His green eyes glistened at Clark's shock.

"I'm from your side of the port, silly!"

From behind him, a hand suddenly touched Clark's shoulder, causing him to jump. Bruce pulled in closer with that same damn grin on his face.

"It's great to see you, Mr. Kent. Do me a favor and put those notes away. You can work later, you need to loosen up."

And then, as if just noticing the man Clark was about to interview, Bruce's grin fell. He gave the man the weirdest look.

"Sorry. Have we met?"

The man's smile remained. Crumbs were left sticking off the sides of his lips, yet he seemed to have no awareness of that fact.

"Nope. Not yet. I'm Jack Napier and I came with Lexy."

Both Clark and Bruce had their jaws dropping at the ego of this man. It was pretty bad when you made Bruce Wayne look humble. Said billionaire cleared his throat. His grip on Clark's shoulder tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough for Clark to take notice.

"You seem really close with Mr. Luthor."

"Oh yes…..we're bffs! Two peas in a pod, we are. At least until someone rips us open."

The man narrowed his eyes as he stared at Bruce. Clark felt the hand pull. Bruce wanted to drag him away. Clark decided that – for once – he wanted the same thing as Bruce.

"If you'll pardon me, Mr. Napier. I would like to speak with Mr. Kent."

"Have fun, you naughty teens."

Was that supposed to be a joke? This guy had as much tact as he had table manners. Clark was happy to get away from him and wished that he hadn't approached Jack in the first place. Something about him was very off.

Bruce managed to whisk him clear across the room. When he deemed the area good enough, he stopped to look Clark in the eye.

"Sorry about that. Sometimes you get a few oddballs at these parties."

"Is he really with Lex Luthor?" Clark couldn't believe that someone was egotistical as Lex would ever associate with a man clearly unstable.

"He's got to be with somebody. There's no way he could've gotten past security otherwise," Bruce took a moment to inspect Clark. He looked genuinely glad to see him, "But forget about him. It's great to see you here. For a second I thought you wouldn't come."

Clark felt his jaw clench. He was so pissed off that he was worried he might accidentally shoot lasers out of his eyes.

"It's a good thing you 'reminded' my boss then. Otherwise I probably wouldn't have."

Bruce laughed in a way that made Clark want to hit him. He suddenly waved a server over. The server carried a tray of white wine that Clark was almost positive cost a pretty penny. Bruce took one with a polite thanks. The server and Bruce then both looked at Clark.

Getting the hint, Clark took a glass as well. He thanked the server as he went away. Bruce sipped his drink.

"If it got you here, then I have no regrets."

"You must really want me to work for you."

"Oh no. That's the last thing I want! If you were under my employment, then dating you would be controversial."

"I already told you—"

"—The night is still young, Mr. Kent. And I don't mean to brag, but you'll that I've very good at convincing people."

The sheer cockiness of this guy was getting on Clark's last nerve. And the alien did the one thing he expected to do.

He laughed.

"What are you going to do? Pay me to sleep with you? I hope you realize that's illegal around here."

Bruce laughed as well, albeit with a bit more good-naturedness than Clark had managed.

"Oh no, nothing like that. I'm just going to seduce you until you fall for me," his eyes were hungry again, "The way you pout is so adorable. You're like fine wine for me to drink, Clark."

He spoke his first name like he was trying it out on his tongue. It seemed he liked the way the name passed through his lips, as his eyelids almost fluttered.

Clark's butterflies returned to his stomach. Although he didn't want to admit it, he never felt so special before. Not even when people debated whether or not he was a god during their late-night talk-shows.

He heard Alfred's footsteps a mile away, but he pretended as though the butler startled him when he spoke.

"Excuse me, Master Bruce. Mr. Luthor is waiting for you in the other room," he noticed Clark jumping, "Forgive me for startling you, Mr. Kent. I will do better not to sneak up people from behind."

"It's alright. But you're really sneaky, Alfred. It makes me wonder if you're Batman," Clark laughed at his own joke.

But neither man laughed, not even out of pity. They looked at each other in silence, although Bruce kept up his wooer's smile.

Okay, Clark could admit that it had been a lame joke, but he didn't deserve such cold reception. Clark suddenly felt sour.

"I guess I'll go and—"

"—Come with me, of course," Bruce interrupted, "I still need you to keep track of what we're saying."

"Sorry, Mr. Wayne. But my stomach hurts. I think I should go."

"Clark—"

"—And also, I need to finish some articles for next week's print. Well, we call it print, but we actually do a lot of things online. Gotta keep up with the times, you know."

"Clark—"

"Also. I have a dog," he didn't really have a dog, "I got to feed it. So, goodbye."

With that, he placed his glass on a nearby table and tried to make a hasty retreat. But Bruce took his arm. He had a surprisingly strong grip. Clark realized that he couldn't budge very easily, meaning that Bruce had more strength than most of the baddies Clark fought on a daily basis.

"Oh no. You already ran away the last time you were here. I'm inclined to put a bell around your neck like a cat, Clark."

"I'm not your pet."

"I know. But I kind of like the thought anyway."

"Bruce, get that image out of your head and let me go."

Not only did Clark's cheeks heat up, but Bruce's face also looked a little pink. The billionaire was clearly thinking something. Clark wanted to hit his head and knock those weird thoughts out.

"Please come with me. Don't make me get on my knees in front of everyone and beg."

"You won't really do that," Clark said.

The two stared at each other for so long that Clark wondered if Bruce would take it as a challenge.

"Look, Clark. I know you don't want to be here, but you don't want to make your boss angry….right?"

Although he was upset, Clark realized (bitterly) that Bruce was right. He couldn't let personal feelings he had right now get in the way of work. Plus, it was just a rejected joke. Why did he feel so upset?  
Maybe he had wanted Bruce to laugh?

Maybe he had wanted to impress Bruce too?

Dammit, he was no better than Sofia now. Clark better do his job and then leave before Bruce actually did make him fall for him.

"Fine."

Bruce smiled.

"That's great. You see? I told you I'm good at convincing people."

…..Yeah…if Joker and Batman could come crashing this party too…..that would be great.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also have a twitter. Just to let you guys know. Feel free to talk to me about Superbat or Batjokes.  
> @supremegreendr1

Clark followed Bruce through the crowd. A man suddenly stood in front of them, blocking their path. He had a digital camera around his neck and his clothes seemed more within Clark's price range rather than what the other guests were wearing.

"Bruce Wayne? Todd Dunn from the Gotham Weekly-"

"Please excuse me, Mr. Dunn. I'll take your questions later. I'm in a hurry. Come on, Clark."

With that, the billionaire pushed past him, leaving the shocked reporter behind. Todd caught Clark's eye and frowned, making Clark wonder if he was jealous of him. Reporters did not like it when other press got special treatment.

Clark and Bruce went inside some sort of living room that was blocked from the rest of the party. There would be plenty of privacy here. It was also strangely quiet. The walls must've been extra thick to block out the endless chatter that echoed outside.

Lex Luthor had taken a seat on a brown satin couch, a small glass of scotch clasped in his hands. Clark wanted to glare at him as soon as they made eye contact. Lex had recently tried to frame Superman for something he did not do, in order to get the public to despise him. Superman had managed to clear his name, and Clark wasn't one to hold a grudge, however, he was still a bit upset. People had called Superman a monster alien because of those rumors. They had hurt Clark more than he would like to admit.

Because deep down the exterior of steel were fragile feelings. Clark wanted earth to be his home. Yet everyday people reminded him that Superman was not from this planet. Whenever they questioned whether to trust Superman or not, it was like a hammer smashing through Clark's ego.

But it was silly for Clark to take such things personally. He was a superhero now, after all.

Lex stood up to shake Bruce's hand. He smiled when his eyes landed on Clark.

"I see the paparazzi is still following you."

"This man is from your city, Mr. Luthor. I asked him to keep track of our conversation. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not. I'm familiar with Mr. Kent's work."

Clark's eyes stared into the mayor's.

"You are?" he couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. Lex knew his human name?

"I've read all the articles relating to Superman. Your name has come up more than once, Mr. Kent. I find your insight to be very beneficial to me. As mayor of Metropolis, I try to learn all I can about the superhero that lives there."

Clark knew that Lex kept close tabs on Superman, but he hadn't realized that Clark Kent had made such a name for himself. He must've written more articles on his alter-ego than he had originally thought.  
Bruce gestured Clark to a nice table, then sat on a matching couch across from his rich guest. More of Alfred's sandwiches had been provided for Clark. He smiled at the butler's kind gesture.

Clark pulled out his suitcase. But as he took out his notes and pens, he realized that his recorder was nowhere in sight. He blinked. He could've sworn he had it before. It wasn't that long ago that he used it last, so it should've been right where he left it. Clark shuffled through his stuff.

"Is something wrong, Clark?" Bruce asked.

Clark shook his head.

"No. It's nothing."

He would look for it later. Right now, he had to focus.

Once he was ready, Bruce turned back to Lex. He gave the mayor the same charming smile he was known for, the kind of smile that could usually melt the iciest of hearts.

"So, Mr. Luthor. You're well known for your charitable services. I'm sure you'll agree that keeping your town safe is a priority. Arkham has helped Gotham for generations with its treatment of the criminally insane. I fully believe that Metropolis can benefit if it opened its doors to them as well."

Lex took a delicate sip of his scotch.

"Forgive me for being so forward, but I think this idea is a waste of money."

Even Bruce seemed surprised at this remark. Clark and Bruce looked at each other uncertainly. Then the billionaire recovered, cleared his throat and turned back to Lex.

"I'm willing to listen to any reservations you have, Mr. Luthor."

Clark kept his pen steady. He had a feeling what Lex was about to say would be noteworthy.

"Thing is: I only have one, Mr. Wayne. And that is the possibility of transferring."

"Transferring?"

Lex looked at Bruce as if he was stupid. For some reason, Clark felt angry about this.

"The criminals in this city have proven to be quite the handful for your doctors. If there's another Arkham around, they might be tempted to move their problems away."

"You think they're going to bring Gotham's criminals to Metropolis? I assure you…."

"I really don't think you can promise anything. Your plan has given Arkham itself all the power to decide what's best."

It seemed that this concern had never crossed Bruce's mind. Lex continued.

"Unless you were to give me a little more control over it. Perhaps I can be involved in all decision making. I would also request the final vote."

Clark had seen this side of Lex many times before, the side that yearned for as much power as possible. If his brand was on it, Lex felt that he could do whatever he wanted with it. Hell, he even tried to put his own logo on Superman himself, so Clark knew about this side more than anyone about this.

Bruce was at a loss for words. Clark could see something akin to defeat in his eyes. The man must've realized that he was fighting a losing battle.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Mr. Luthor."

The mayor of Metropolis stood up.

"Then I guess we're done here. I give you the best of luck. But as for financial aid, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. And I must warn you that even if you wanted to fund it all yourself, there's still the issue of whether or not the town wants it. We will have to go through voting processes and everything. You understand, I'm sure."

"Of course."

"Good day, Mr. Wayne. And to you as well, Clark."

With that, Lex left the room, shutting the door behind him. Clark was alone with Bruce Wayne.

Bruce sighed sadly. He probably really wanted this plan of his to work. Clark felt sorry for him, especially since he knew the story about Bruce's parents. Project Arkham wasn't just a pet project; it was something he had been very passionate about.

Clark was moving toward him without thought. He reached out to him by touching his shoulder in a comforting way. Bruce stared at Clark as he took a seat beside him.

"Hey, it's just a minor setback. You're Bruce Wayne. If you really want something, you can get it done. I know it."

Bruce smiled. It was genuine for a few seconds, before the mischievous glint came back to his eyes. Great, Clark thought. He was already back to his normal self.

"You know what makes me feel better at a time like this, Clark? A massage. Unfortunately, my chiropractor's not here today. So, could you-"

"I am trying to be nice to you. Don't ruin it."

Bruce let out a hearty laugh. Strangely enough, Clark kind of liked the sound of his laughter. The alien wanted to slap himself for having such a thought cross his mind.

"I can't help myself. Seeing your pretty face cheered me right up. Besides, I already promised that I would make you fall for me, and I'm a man of my word."

Don't say anything you'll regret, Clark.

"You're free to try."

Bad, Clark. Bad!

Bruce clapped his hand over Clark's, keeping their gazes locked on each other. The charming smile he had tried to use on Lex was now directing its attention on Clark. Lex might've not falling to its whims, but Clark was having a harder time being immune to it.

"Glad to hear it. If you'd like, the date offer is still good. I can take you to my favorite café. You'll love it. The coffee there is imported from Ethiopia. And trust me when I say they know their coffee…."

Clark suddenly realized something while he listened to Bruce ramble on. The meeting with Lex was finished, so nothing was stopping him from leaving the party. He did what he came here for. His boss wouldn't be upset if he left now.

He could leave.

So why wasn't he? It was as if his brain was telling him to, but his legs weren't working. Clark felt content just listening to Bruce's voice. The deep tenor soothed him in a way that not even the most beautiful music in the world could.

"…If you like coffee, that is," Bruce finished.

"No, thank you. I already told you—"

"—How about dinner then?"

Was that supposed to be backtracking? Because it seemed more like dinner instead of coffee was upping the ante.

"No, Bruce."

"You should get contacts."

Clark did a double take, "What?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes, Clark? It's a shame that you have those stubborn glasses blocking them."

Before Clark could react, Bruce snatched his spectacles from right off his face. Clark made a grab for his stolen possession, but Bruce just smiled and held them out of reach. Clark's teeth grinded together. Bruce was playing keep-a-way. Was he an adult or a five-year-old child?

"Give those back."

Clark pushed against Bruce's outstretched palm. Bruce's other hand held the glasses that were as far from Clark as possible. Every time Clark reached for them, Bruce would always pull them away in the nick of time.

"Seriously, stop it!"

"Come on, Clark. You look great. In fact, you look like…." He trailed off as if a thought had just occurred to him. Bruce frowned. He looked at Clark for an uncomfortable amount of time.

Clark took advantage of Bruce being distracted. He threw himself on top of the billionaire. Bruce fell with his back against the couch, while Clark grabbed his glasses. He put them back on with a victorious grin.

Suddenly, Clark realized the position they were both in. He stared down at Bruce, who didn't seem in too much of a rush to free himself. Bruce's eyes were soft.

This new docile side of Bruce was too much for Clark to handle. Clark found himself leaning his head down before he realized what he was doing. Bruce met him halfway.

They kissed. It was nothing more than a tender brushing of the lips, but it was enough to make Clark stir crazy for more. Bruce deepened it. He pulled Clark's head even closer, while his tongue slipped inside.

There was a flash of light. Clark yanked away just in time to see Todd Dunn with his camera. Caught red-handed, the journalist retreated back to the party.

"Oh no!" Clark got off of Bruce.

Bruce seemed to be in a whole other world. He probably hadn't even noticed that someone snapped a picture, and even if he had, it was likely that he wouldn't care. But Clark would be forever ashamed of himself if that got out.

He ran outside. Todd was nowhere in sight. Clark had to be smart about this.

He used his x-ray vision to look past the crowd. He hoped it would be easier to spot the camera that way. All he could see were glowing skeletons, as well as items that clearly were not what he was searching for.

Something he saw left him speechless. Something that wasn't a camera.

The man who called himself Jack Napier was carrying a gun. How did he sneak that past security? There had been metal detectors and everything. Gotham spared no expense to keep the wealthy safe.  
And yet here was someone packing heat. Extremely dangerous. Clark wasn't familiar with all types of guns, but that looked to be a magnum revolver of some kind.

"You alright? You look spooked," Bruce came out of the room. He noticed where Clark was staring and frowned at Jack. His eyes grew hard in a way that Clark had never seen before.

"I think that man's armed," Clark admitted. If Bruce could sound the alarm, he could escape long enough to become Superman.

Bruce turned his hard gaze in his direction. When he asked his next question, it seemed like a command from a superior officer.

"Why do you say that?"

The alien had no time to contemplate Bruce's sudden change of attitude. Clark fished out the first lie he could think of.

"I caught a glimpse of it when he fiddled with his vest. I'm sure I saw the barrel. You got to believe me, Bruce."

Bruce nodded. He looked more serious than Clark thought he was capable of. Instead of being scared or skeptical, Bruce looked ready to take action.

"I do. I want you to leave, Clark. Be discreet. Get to safety. Don't look at Mr. Napier. And act natural."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to step out and call the police. If we make a scene, Mr. Napier might attack."

Bruce was smarter than Clark had given him credit for. They separated. Clark would let Mr. Dunn post what he wanted. When people were in danger, Superman needed to act no matter what.

Clark left the building and made sure he was out of sight of the security cameras. Then he pulled off his clothes, revealing the hope symbol underneath. He took off his glasses and left his clothes in the bushes.

Superman flew back inside. The guards were shocked when he zipped above their heads. People pointed and shouted in excitement. Superman used speed to his advantage. He landed right in front of Jack before he could react and grabbed him.

"Hey! What's going on?" the man asked.

"I think you might've brought something you shouldn't have," he responded.

Jack looked pissed off.

"What are you even fucking doing here? This isn't your-"

"-He's helping me," a deep, dark voice rang from behind Superman.

The voice. Stupefied, Superman looked behind him. The crowd made plenty of room for Batman to walk closer. Everyone whispered in each other's ear, all happy to see the two heroes at once. They still had no idea what danger they were in.

Superman was in shock. How did he get here so fast? Maybe he had been watching all this time and just now decided to do something.

His first thought was to look through the mask. But something occurred to him. Batman told Jack that they were working together. He wanted to be Superman's ally. Superman was quite aware how important it was for a hero to keep their identity. Superman would not punish Batman's trust by digging through his secrets.

Jack struggled in Superman's grip. He growled.

"I didn't do anything!"

Superman turned back to him.

"I want you to come with me."

"Wait a minute. I think he's more dangerous than you know," Batman said.

Superman narrowed his eyes at the dark knight. He had handled guns plenty of times in the past. Batman was nice to warn him, but honestly Superman was insulted that he underestimated him.  
Batman suddenly grabbed a tablecloth and dunked it in some water. He walked up to Superman, and washed Jack's face like he was his mother. Superman's eyes grew wide. The cloth was collecting what looked to be skin-colored foundation.

Jack gnashed his teeth, growling at Batman. Once the foundation was off, what was left was bleached skin.

"It's the Joker!" people cried out.

The crowd couldn't leave the party fast enough. People in Gotham knew the damage that the clown could cause. Superman was in shock.

Despite it being Batman who revealed him, Joker looked angry at Superman.

"It's not funny to ruin the joke before it begins."

"What joke?" asked Superman.

"I was going to shoot Bruce Wayne when he made his speech. But you messed it up! My honey came here before I could. You little freak! I will make you eat kryptonite!"

Batman grabbed Joker from Superman's grip. Superman allowed him to take Joker away. Batman glared as he pulled Joker by the collar, while the clown smiled at him. It seemed the two were used to this kind of thing.

"Oh, Batsy! I knew you'd get me away from that freak."

"Why are you after Wayne?" demanded Batman. To be fair, Superman really wanted to know that too. In fact, he wanted to punch Joker for trying to kill him.

Joker's smile turned sour.

"You mean you don't know? And I thought you were the world's greatest detective. You're so cute when you're stupid, Bats."

Superman arched a brow. It was strange seeing someone as despicable as the Joker flirting with Batman. And yet it seemed that Batman was used to this. He ignored the comments like they meant nothing. If the flirting was Joker's attempt at manipulating him, it sure wasn't working.

Batman shook him.

"Why are you after Wayne?"

Now Superman could really see why people feared the dark knight. Batman looked positively dangerous.

And yet, Joker only laughed.

"It's simple. Almost so simple, that I don't even feel like explaining it to you—"

Batman shoved the clown roughly on the table. Glasses spilled on the floor and broke into pieces. Joker just laughed and laughed and laughed as Batman choked him.

Superman was wondering whether or not to intervene when Joker responded with a heavy gasp.

"Alright. I'll tell you, since….you're….playing so rough. I'm after him because…..because…loosen your grip a little bit, darling, won't you….ah! Okay okay! Because he's trying to take you away from ME!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little rushed. Apologies. I said I would have it in by today, so I uploaded today.

Batman wasn't as surprised by what Joker said as Superman was, but he did seem a tad confused. His grip remained tight around the clown's throat.

  
"What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere."

  
Joker sputtered out his next sentences in delighted gasps of breath.

  
"You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that. But I guess what I should've said is that he's taking me away from you. Don't you see, Batsy? If another Arkham is built, the doctors will insist on transferring me there. And the next time I get a little bored and decide to escape, who will be waiting to bring me right back? I want it to be you. You know I do. But in Metropolis," suddenly angry, Joker glared Superman's way, "He thinks he can fight all the baddies himself. He will force me to play with him. When you're the only hero for me."

  
This was the second time that transferring was brought up as an issue. Superman remembered how Joker said he was friends with Lex.

  
Lex Luthor had done some drastic things. But Superman couldn't believe he would ever join forces with the Joker. Superman wanted nothing more than to interrogate the Joker on his relationship with the evil billionaire. But if he did so, Joker might put together that he was Clark Kent. It wasn't a risk that Superman was willing to take.

  
"So you wanted to get to Wayne and stop Project Arkham," Batman said through narrow eyes. It caused Joker to chuckle like a toddler on Christmas morning.

  
"Oh, baby. You're upset with me. I'll make it up to you soon. Pinky promise. You're…." he looked back at Superman, "You're not really working with this freak of nature, are you? He could probably kill someone by sneezing. You need to dump him right now. Trust me, darling. He's no good for you."

  
Superman could no longer tell if the clown's innuendos were in jest or in earnest. Batman continued on as if he hadn't heard Joker. He pulled the villain up to his feet.

  
"You're coming with me."

  
"Eh. Let me take a raincheck on that."

  
Joker threw his foot in a roundhouse kick. The kick itself didn't do anything to Batman, but Joker was prepared. From the soles of his shoes came a purple gas that blinded the heroes. Even Superman couldn't see anything for a few seconds.

  
"Love you, Bats. And to Superfreak. Fuck off!" laughter echoed through the walls.

  
When the gas dissipated, Joker was nowhere to be seen. Batman and Superman stared awkwardly at each other.

  
"Should we go after him?" Superman asked.

  
Batman steadied himself. He inspected the Man of Steel with suspicion.

  
"There's no point. He never shows up until he's ready," Batman fiddled with something on his belt, "But I don't need to go after him. I'll keep an eye on Wayne and he'll come to me."

  
He said me. Not us. Superman caught onto the cold way that the Dark Knight was talking to him. For some reason, he felt the dire need to make friends. He spoke before realizing it.

  
"I didn't look through your mask. I could've. But I didn't."

  
Pause. Surprise on his face, Batman turned to him and just stared. He seemed to be searching for the truth in his words. Finally, Batman gave a curt nod.

  
"I believe you. But I work alone."

  
"But you said—"

  
"—I said that to make the Joker nervous. He always slips up when he feels threatened. Don't delude yourself into thinking we're allies."

  
It hurt to hear. And Superman didn't even know why it hurt so much. He didn't know anything about Batman, so why did he care?

  
And yet…..he couldn't help himself.

  
"You need my help."

  
"I don't," Batman stated simply. He went over to a window and opened it. From his belt he pulled some sort of tool and pointed it toward the sky, "Go back to your city. Gotham has enough problems to deal without the likes of you. If you show yourself again, I'll come after you next."

  
He shot the tool like a bullet. The wire carried Batman's body away from the scene, making him disappear into the night.

  
As Superman watched Batman leave, he realized that the problem wasn't Batman trusting nobody. Batman didn't trust him specifically.

  
He didn't trust Superman.

  
Even to someone as logical as Batman thought of Superman as nothing more than a danger waiting to happen. Superman was all alone as a human and as a hero.

 

 

When Clark got back to his hotel room, he slumped on his bed and pulled a pillow over his eyes. He used the remote without looking at it. The television hummed in the background.

  
"….Billionaire Bruce Wayne is okay. As well as the rest of his guests…..experts say-"

  
Clark's cell phone rang. It was from Lois. Clark wasn't in the mood to talk, so he put the phone and silent and sent her a quick text.

  
_Speak to you later. I have a headache._

  
_Are you ok? I heard what happened_

  
_Everything's fine. Really. Ttyl_

  
Lois must've gotten the message, for she didn't text after that. Clark rubbed his temples. Lex knew something about the plan to kill Bruce Wayne. But how was he going to get answers from him? If he showed up as Superman, he might butt heads with Batman even further. The last thing he wanted was to be on Batman's shit list.

  
Besides, what could he do to get Lex to confess? Lex Luthor had plenty of kryptonite to keep Superman at bay. Going in unprepared would be suicide-Batman or no Batman.

  
The tv continued to drone on in the background.

  
"Wayne will have some bodyguards with him for the next few days…"

  
At least Bruce was safe, so the night wasn't a total disaster. And Batman was going to help too.

  
….But it wasn't enough.

  
When the Joker openly said he wanted to kill Bruce, Clark got scared. Bruce might've been annoying. And arrogant. And smug. And everything else in the insult dictionary. But he didn't deserve to die, especially over something that was an attempt to protect Gotham City.

  
Clark felt the sudden need to protect him. He knew those bodyguards wouldn't keep Joker away forever. And Batman had to protect all of Gotham. He wouldn't be able to watch him all the time.  
Superman would have to take the job.

  
But how was he going to keep an eye on him without Batman breathing down his neck?

  
Unless he didn't watch him as Superman.

  
The alien looked at his phone. He memorized the Wayne Manor landline when they wanted him to interview Bruce. Clark dialed the number quickly, so that he wouldn't change his mind halfway through.

  
"Alfred Pennyworth speaking."

  
"Alfred, it's Clark Kent from the Daily Planet-"

  
"-Oh!" the man sounded genuinely surprised, "It's a pleasure to hear from you. I'm sure Master Wayne would be delighted. Would you like to speak with him?"

  
"Yes! I mean, yes please, sir," Clark felt awkward about all this.

  
He heard shuffling from the other line. Bruce's voice came next, and it sounded like a mix of pleasantly surprised and a hint of concern.

  
"Clark? I was meaning to reach you somehow. But I didn't know what hotel room you were staying in. Are you alright?"

  
_Time to face the music, Clark. Time to beg for a date._

  
"I'm great. I just…." _Dammit. Why was this so hard?_ "Remember how you said at the end of the night you would have me falling over you?"

  
"I remember," Bruce sounded amused now. Tired, but amused.

  
"Well….you were right."

  
"I…." for the first time, Bruce was at a loss for words, "I was?"

  
"I want to go out with you. If the offer's still good?"

  
"It's always good," Bruce exclaimed, "And I thought this night wasn't going to give me a break! This is great! With Lex rejecting me and the Joker….But you just made my day. So, coffee? Tomorrow morning at ten?"

 

 

 

Clark made his way to the café that Bruce had told him about. It was very close to Wayne Enterprises, settling in the center of the rich part of town.

  
Someone stood by a podium to greet the customer. Or maybe to make sure not just anyone could come inside without a VIP. Clark wasn't sure which.

  
Once again, Clark felt underdressed amidst all the expensive furniture and three-hundred-dollar silverware. And this was just a café this time. At least with the fundraiser, there was a reason people were dressing up. What was their excuse here?

  
"Clark," Bruce's voice came from behind a glass-stained counter.

  
The reporter was happy to not deal with the podium man. He had been looking at Clark like he didn't belong.

  
Bruce stood up in order to pull out a chair for his date.

  
"Please. Have a seat."

  
No one had done anything like that for Clark before. He wasn't sure whether he liked it or just felt weird about it.

  
"Thank you. You know you don't have to do that. I'm not a woman."

  
Bruce chuckled. He returned to his seat. He got comfortable rather quickly, seemingly at peace now that Clark was here.

  
"Sorry. I guess I'm getting used to dating a man still. You'll have to show me the ropes on how to date you."

  
They pulled up a menu that had been provided for them. Clark couldn't pronounce half the words on it, despite most of it being coffee or some sort of drink. Clark ordered the first thing on the menu: a hot cup of plain coffee. Bruce ordered the same thing, along with cherry almond scones for them to share.

"So, what do you think of the place?"

  
Clark examined the chandelier above them, along with the way their table was made to look like a white decorative tree, arching all the way up to the ceiling in brilliant lights. Bruce had chosen to wear a blue suit over a white shirt.

  
"I think it's a little extravagant for coffee."

  
Bruce cracked a smile.

  
"What can I say? When they're proud, they're proud. They tell me that they grow their imported beans at an altitude of about 5000 feet. Also, the farms they get it from don't sell their products anywhere else in the country. At least, that's what they told me."

  
"They just ramble on about their product?" Clark asked.

  
"I think they were trying to sell me the store."

  
Clark chuckled. He couldn't help himself. The idea was just so funny and yet it made a lot of sense. If there was one thing last night taught him, it was that people would do anything to impress Bruce Wayne.

  
Bruce's face lit up at the reaction. Their order came in porcelain cups. Clark thank the waitress right as she left. They also had a saucer of cream and sugar, as well as the scones that Bruce had ordered.  
Bruce helped himself to one.

  
"So tell me about yourself."

  
"Not much to tell. Don't know what I can say," Clark sipped his coffee.

  
"Then let's start by asking each other some questions. You know? Like last time."

  
Clark shot the billionaire a look.

  
"Will these questions remain appropriate?"

  
"Clark," Bruce mocked offense, "I have no idea what you mean."

  
"I'm sure you don't," he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. And yet he wasn't as annoyed as before. Hanging out with Bruce turned out to be a lot more pleasant than he had thought. Maybe keeping him safe from Joker would be fun.

  
"Promise I'll only ask the important inappropriate questions."

  
Or maybe not.

  
Clark shrugged his shoulders, "Alright. If I remember, it's my turn to ask a question. What do you like to do in your free time?"

  
Bruce took a moment to think. His eyes watched Clark carefully; hungrily. Clark was sorry he asked.

  
"I like training at the gym."

  
This didn't surprise Clark. He could tell right away that Bruce kept himself fit. Likely, the only reason for that was to attract as many dates as possible. Still, Clark couldn't fault him for living an active lifestyle.

  
"I wouldn't know anything about that. I'm not very athletic," Clark lied.

  
"Could've fooled me."

  
Clark had just been about to take a sip of his drink. He paused, then looked up from his cup.

  
"Excuse me?"

  
"Well, I just notice that you seem more in shape than you let on. You slouch a lot, but I can still tell you're in pretty good shape," Bruce's smile grew wide, "Why are you trying to hide that fact? Do you like having secrets? I like it when they try to be mysterious."

  
Clark's brain scrambled for a purchase. Fortunately, Bruce decided to change the subject on his own.

  
"My turn. Have you ever tried to picture me naked?"

  
He was happy he hadn't been sipping coffee that time, or else Clark would've accidentally spit it out. Clark sent Bruce a cold stare.

  
"I was hoping you'd keep those kinds of questions to a minimum."

  
Bruce rested his chin on his hand, a smug grin on his face. Clark couldn't even imagine what his own face must've looked like. He was glad he didn't have access to a mirror right now.

  
"Alright. I'll let you slide with not answering, even though I'm really interested in knowing. How about this question? What's your favorite animal?"

  
"Bird," Clark answered easily. It was nice to have his feathered friends flock around him whenever he flew.

  
"Any particular kind?"

  
"I guess the colorful ones…..Cardinals, blue jays…."

  
"Robins? Some of those can be really colorful."

  
"You like robins, Bruce?"

  
Clark found it was getting easier and easier to talk to this guy. Maybe after Joker was safely behind bars, they could even become friends.

  
Who cared about Batman? At least Bruce was willing to give Clark the time of day.

  
"Sure, I do. I guess you can say I'm naturally drawn to them. I'm taking the last question as your turn, by the way."

  
That wasn't fair, considering how Bruce had asked multiple questions during his turns. But Clark didn't really feel like arguing.

  
From the way Bruce smiled, it was clear he was thinking something not-so-innocent.

  
"I'm not answering the question if-"

  
"-If it's not appropriate, I get it. You can be a real killjoy."

  
It was Clark's turn to smile, "Well I guess this killjoy can gohome."

Bruce nearly sprang out of his seat.

  
"No no no. I was just kidding. Don't leave again. Besides, it's my turn."

  
Clark took another sip of his coffee. It tasted to different to describe. Clark had never had anything like it. He wasn't sure what to make of something so rich and full-bodied. But at least it was giving him some much needed energy to take his bodyguarding seriously.

  
Speaking of which, where were Bruce's guards? Surely, they weren't too far away. After the attack at the party, there was no way Bruce would go without protection.

  
Was there?

  
"Let's see. What odd talent do you have?"

  
Immediately all his powers sprang to mind: flight, super-strength, x-ray vision that Bruce wanted to badly….

  
"I have extensive knowledge about my football team back in Smallville."

  
Bruce's eyes lit up, as if just catching Clark in a lie.

  
"I knew you were athletic."

  
"What? No. Just because I know about football-"

  
"-I bet you played it in high school."

  
"Well. A little."

  
"Case closed."

  
And then Bruce sat back in his chair. He looked like he just won a court session. The two men stared at each other in silence.

  
Clark and Bruce shared a laugh. Clark wasn't even sure why they were acting so silly, and yet he didn't care. He hadn't had this much fun in a long time.

  
"Alright, wise guy. Here's my next one. Where would Alfred be most surprised to find you?"

  
"In bed," Bruce paused until Clark gave him a look, "Alone."

  
Yeah, Clark didn't have much trouble believing that one. He grabbed a scone off the plate and tenderly took a bite. Speaking of Alfred, the man had already started spoiling him. Not even these expensive pastries could compete with his cooking.

  
"Now for my most important question. Will I get lucky later?"

  
It was at this point that Clark was beginning to expect these kinds of questions every so often. To his credit, he managed not to bat an eye.

  
"Depends on if you play your cards right."

  
He had to keep Bruce hoping. Otherwise, the billionaire might not want to hang out anymore. And that would mean Clark wouldn't be able to protect him.

  
Bruce's face flushed red. The grin on his face suddenly didn't look very smug, but it was obvious that Bruce was very happy at what he heard.

  
"Well….if that's the case. Then I'll make sure I have a royal flush."

  
The morning pressed on. By noon Clark had Bruce's number and Bruce had his. They exited the building, both feeling like a million bucks.

  
Clark had been on dates before. But he never left one feeling so refreshed and eager for more.  
But the happy feeling soon crashed.

  
People came in front of the two with microphones and notebooks all hanging out.

  
"Mr. Wayne. When were you going to admit to your new sexual orientation?"

  
"Mr. Wayne. Is it true you and Mr. Kent kissed during your fundraiser?"

  
"Mr. Kent. Do you intend to marry this man and inherit his fortune?"

  
"Is this a permanent relationship or just another fling, Mr. Wayne? If a fling, will you be dating more men in the future?"

  
Startled, Bruce and Clark could only look at each other. Suddenly it all came tumbling back to Clark's head.

  
Todd Dunn.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their relationship is now official.

Clark liked to consider himself a pursuer of truth. He was the kind of reporter who would do anything for a scoop, the kind who would keep digging for secrets until they spilled out into the open. But now that the shoe was on the other foot, he realized what a pain in the ass he could be. The reporters were so determined to get information out of him that he had to take refuge in Wayne Manor. They’d practically invaded his hotel room. It was little wonder that Clark ended up here, using Bruce’s house as a hole to hide.

 

Well, at least Alfred’s sandwiches were here. So, it was probably the best hole he could’ve found. The butler had insisted on making some for Clark, seemingly aware and flattered by how much he enjoyed them, to which Clark had eagerly accepted. If Bruce wasn’t careful, the next headline would be ‘Superman Kidnaps Butler: Forces Him to Cook for Him.’

 

He tried to smile at the thought. All joking aside, Clark felt like hell. He had been getting migraines thanks to all this drama. Clark rubbed his temples with one hand, while the other held the phone to his ear.

 

Lois didn’t make things easier, “When were you going to tell me? I thought I was your friend, Clark. I’m so not happy that some dweeb with a camera found out before I did.”

 

“I swear I was going to tell you, Lois. Eventually…..I’m sorry. Really. I just had to figure things out for myself before I told anyone. Guess that plan’s out the window.”

 

He was sitting on the sofa in one of Bruce’s many living rooms. Bruce was nowhere to be seen and Alfred had decided that Clark could use some privacy. Clark was grateful to have the room to himself. It gave him a chance to vent on the phone in peace.

 

Lois accepted the apology, her voice softening to one of concern, “How are your parents going to handle the news?”

 

Most people didn’t realize that although Clark’s parents were farmers, they were rather progressive in a lot of ways.

 

“They already know I’m gay. It’s not a problem.”

 

“Well, that’s a relief. I guess now we can talk about more important matters.”

 

She sounded so carefree all of the sudden. It was a stark contrast to her anger just seconds ago. Lois Lane, the most confusing person on earth. Sometimes Clark had an easier time defusing bombs than figuring out what went inside this woman’s head.

 

“Matters like…..?”

 

“Kissing Bruce Wayne, of course! They all say he’s good. So, spill. Was he?”

 

The headache was going to get worse if he talked to her for too long. He didn’t call her in order to chat about boys. Sometimes Lois could really act more like a teenager than a grown woman.

 

The pain was throbbing now. How come he can handle bullets, but not a migraine? “Remind me the next time the press is after me to never talk to you again.”

 

“What did I do, Clark?” she asked in mocked innocence, the laughter tracing through her voice.

 

“I just don’t want to talk about that…..picture,” that was leaking out to every website known to man. Bruce didn’t care that was happening. In fact, if Clark didn’t know any better, he’d think that Bruce was actually happy everyone knew now. Clark, on the other hand, was absolutely mortified.

 

There was a beat of silence. Then Lois grew serious, “Just….be careful, okay? I think some women are genuinely upset with you.”

 

“Huh? Why is that?”

 

“I guess they think you ‘turned Bruce Wayne gay’ or something. I’ve been seeing chatrooms where people saying they want to hang you with a noose. I’m sure they’re kidding. But still…some people out there are just crazy.”

 

Great. Joker was the one trying to kill Bruce Wayne, but it was Clark who was getting the all the hate from Bruce’s admirers. It was bad enough that he had to deal with this kind of anger as Superman. How was Clark Kent supposed to deal with psychos wanting him dead?

 

“Thanks for the heads up. Lois, I think I got to go. I need to some ibuprofen.”

 

“I’m not surprised. Take care of yourself, alright Clark?”

 

They both hung up. Clark felt the comfortable silence fill the room. He let himself sink into the feather cushions, trying his best to ignore his aching head. He didn’t really have any medicine, but he didn’t need it. If he concentrated enough, he could make the pain go away. It was one of the perks that came with his powers. All the pain of a bullet wound could disappear with some mental prowess.

 

The sweet silence only lasted a couple of minutes, before Bruce’s voice came from behind him.

 

“Don’t worry about the paparazzi. They’ll get bored eventually. When that happens, they’ll leave you alone. Trust me. It happened to me more times than I can count.”

 

Clark stared at his host in gratitude. It meant a lot to him that Bruce was willing to open the doors to his home. If he hadn’t, Clark would still be out dodging questions from reporters. The small room at the inn wouldn’t have been able to keep them out.

 

Clark stared at the sandwiches in front of him. For the first time, he wasn’t feeling up to eating them. It truly seemed like nothing would make him feel better.

 

At least his headache was slowly going away.

 

“It might take a while for them to get bored though. And I can’t hide in your house forever, even though I want to.”

 

“You want to?” Bruce sounded so happy that it caused Clark to look at him. Bruce’s grin was wide enough to put the Joker to shame, “Well then, why not stay indefinitely? I’ll be more than happy to give you a second home. It will be nice to have someone waiting for me when I get home from work.”

 

“I believe we’ve already established that I’m not your pet,” he said sourly, although he was secretly amused. Bruce’s smile was starting to become contagious. Clark didn’t have a lot of male friends. It felt nice having Bruce around to just talk to.

 

“Well if you ever change your mind, I got a collar with your name on it.”

 

Clark laughed at the joke (please for the love of all things holy let that suppose to be a joke) and Bruce joined in. Bruce plopped himself on the sofa next to Clark. He was very close.

 

Clark made eye contact with Bruce, as shivers went up his spine. They were nice feeling shivers, like the kinds you would get if you dip into a pool on a hot summer day. Without thinking, Clark felt his eyes trail down Bruce’s lips. Have they always been so smooth?

 

Bruce’s smile softened, “See something you like?”

 

Flustered, Clark looked away. But Bruce was a step ahead. The billionaire took a soft hold of his chin and gently turned Clark’s head back his way. To Clark’s credit, Bruce was blushing too, so at least he didn’t have to be completely embarrassed.

 

“I think I do,” Clark realized seconds later that he was the one who said that. He nearly wanted to bury himself underground. It was as if his hormones were speaking for him now.

 

He told himself that he was acting. Yeah, that was it! Let Bruce think he was interested. But Clark definitely wasn’t interested for real. He was a profession secret superhero bodyguard, dammit.

 

Bruce leaned forward. Clark instinctively met him halfway. Once more, their lips brushed against each other in an uncertain kiss. This was the whole reason Dunn managed to ruin his life in the first place. And yet here Clark was, kissing Bruce on a couch yet again.

 

How could something feel so right? This felt like something Clark needed his entire life, without him ever realizing he was even in need of something.

 

It was all an act, he told himself. All an act to keep Bruce Wayne safe.

 

Bruce seemed to take it upon himself to take the lead. He kissed harder and Clark automatically pulled his head back while Bruce pushed forward. Soon Bruce was lying on top of Clark, using the angle as an advantage to taste all of Clark’s mouth. Clark found he didn’t mind so much.

 

The kiss was deep, passionate, raw. Clark’s senses were on overload as he all but yanked Bruce closer to him. He kept repeating in his head that he was only pretending. When this was all through, he would let Bruce down as gently as possible. Clark would hate himself later. Right now he would ~~enjoy~~ tolerate the kiss.

 

Then his cell phone began to ring. It took a few seconds for Clark to realize this, however, as he was still engrossed in Bruce’s scent. What kind of shampoo did he use? It smelled like strawberry.

 

Focus, Kent! Focus!

 

Clark pulled away. Or at least, he tried to. When Bruce felt him retract, he tightened his hold on the alien like a child refusing to give up a favorite toy.

 

The cell phone continued to ring. Bruce showed no signs that he even heard it. Clark managed to disconnect their lips long enough to protest.

 

“Got…to…answer.”

 

“Wha-“ Bruce was lost in his own little world. There would be no use talking to him until Clark snapped him out of his daze.

 

Bruce sought to reclaim Clark’s lips. But Clark fought back. He tilted his head away so that Bruce’s kiss landed on his cheek, yet Bruce didn’t seem to mind too much. Was that a purr Clark heard? And Bruce was calling him the pet!

 

“Bruce! I got to answer the phone.”

 

Bruce blinked, as if waking up from a dream. Then the charming smile returned on his face, this time looking a little mischievous. He loosened his hold so that Clark could get his phone, but he didn’t completely let go.

 

Clark saw that it was from his boss.

 

“Yes, chief?”

 

“Explain to me that photo.”

 

Fuck. Clark knew they would have this talk sooner or later. He could only pray that his boss wouldn’t fire him over kissing someone he was suppose to be interviewing.

 

“I….can’t,” he answered honestly. He couldn’t even explain the photo for himself. He kept asking himself the same question over and over again. What had possessed him to kiss Bruce Wayne like that?

 

He felt Bruce’s lips on the crook of his neck as he talked on the phone. Clark shuddered, realizing it felt good. He could easily push Bruce off and tell him to cut it out. But, he didn’t.

 

Bruce grew more daring. Teeth lightly scrapped over Clark’s skin in a sort of love bite. Clark shuddered some more. He tried to suppress a moan.

 

“Then just tell me straight up,” Perry said, “Are you together?”

 

The mouth was now sucking. Was Bruce trying to leave a hickey? Clark had half a mind to yell at the billionaire.

 

But dammit, it felt good.

 

“Yes. I guess so….”

 

“Good,” Perry said. Clark was certain he misheard.

 

“Good?” he repeated? Wasn’t Perry going to yell at him? Call him unprofessional? Force him to interview people in a gorilla costume? Anything?

 

“Of course this is good, Kent! Now he’ll tell you everything! You can get all kinds of information out of him about the project. Not only that, but people are now screaming to know more about your relationship with him. I want your next article to be all about what it’s like to date the most popular socialite in Gotham.”

 

Whelp. It looked like Perry was unprofessional too. At least Clark wasn’t going to get punished.

 

Shit, he just let out a moan. He prayed Perry didn’t hear it. But of course he did.

 

“Is everything alright? You sound like you’re in pain.”

 

Clark bit his bottom lip. Bruce was now treating his neck like a delicate fruit to nibble. Yep, he was definitely going to leave a mark at this rate, which had probably been his intention all along.

 

“Chief, I got to go. I’m uh…getting ibuprofen.”

 

He hung up before the other man could respond. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he let the moans slip from his lips. Bruce nipped and licked at his collarbone, until he was finally satisfied with his work. He looked up at the neck.

 

“Damn. You’re going to bruise me,” Clark said. He didn’t sound upset. That was because, for some reason, he wasn’t upset.

 

Bruce smiled in victory, looking quite pleased with himself. He got off so that Clark could sit back up. The two awkwardly readjust themselves. Well, it was awkward for Clark, at least. Bruce seemed to be used to doing this right after making out like a horny teen.

 

“You’re free to bruise me up too. It’s only fair. I would love to show off the hickey from my new boyfriend.”

 

Clark let out a cough, “Is that what we are?”

 

Bruce frowned. Now he looked nervous, “I’m sorry. I thought since you weren’t pushing away….did I misread your signals?”

 

The reporter swallowed, his heart hammering in his chest. Do it to protect Bruce Wayne. Joker was still at large and very much a threat.

 

“No! I mean, I’m happy to be your boyfriend. I just didn’t know if we were official.”

 

Just like that, the confidence returned on Bruce’s face, “I know it’s soon, but I knew there was something special about you before our date. I was hoping you felt the same way! Clark, would you make me the happiest man on earth and be my boyfriend?”

 

Crap. Clark was going to feel guilty as hell before this was all over. Should he quit while he was ahead? Maybe there was another way to protect him. Maybe this was going too far.

 

“Clark?” Bruce was still smiling, but Clark could see the worry in his eyes. Clark felt like sinking into those blue eyes. He was entranced by them.

 

“Sure, I will,” who said that? Was that him? Were his hormones speaking again?

 

Bruce hugged him. Clark allowed him to push his head into the crook of Bruce’s neck, while Bruce’s chin rested on his hair.

 

This was the point of no return. Clark would have to deal with a heartbroken Bruce hating him later. But for now he forced all thoughts of that aside and just focus on the embrace. Suddenly Superman of all people felt small, and this hug was keeping him safe. Clark hadn’t felt like this in a long time. It was strangely comforting.

 

Bruce moved, breaking Clark out of his blissful days. He looked up to see Bruce grabbing the remote. Bruce smiled down at him.

 

“Figured we could use some background noise.”

 

With that, he clicked the tv on. The news came out in all 90” of screen. The reporter stood on top of a building, the wind blowing through her hair, and fear in her eyes. Clark and Bruce both tensed up when they saw what the screen above her was showing.

 

Somewhere a building was littered with armed goons who probably should’ve all been locked up by now. It took Clark a second to realize it was Gotham City Bank. The reporter seemed a safe distance away from the crime. Yet that didn’t seem to help her worries.

 

“The employees who were working overnight have been taken hostage. We believe it’s Two-Face, based on what one offender said.”

 

And then the screen above her showed a particularly crazy goon shooting up at the sky.

 

“Two-Face wants the Batman to show up pronto! Someone get him!”

 

The reporter then looked scared.

 

“I don’t have to tell anyone that Batman usually only comes to help at night. No one knows who he really is, so no one knows how to contact him during the day. All we can do is broadcast this and hope he hears our call.”

 

Bruce tensed up while cuddling alongside Clark. Clark kept his eyes glued to the screen, his inner hero yelling at him to fly right there.

 

The reporter suddenly shifted. She motioned, and the helicopter camera zoomed in. The people seemed to understand her inner orders, for the camera soon covered the whole screen, until all they could see was the goon. He shot more bullets in the air.

 

“Also. We heard that Supes is in town.”

 

It was Clark’s turn to tense up. The goon continued.

 

“He’s not the one the boss wants to see. So Supes, you better be listening! We’re all watching. If we see you anywhere on foot or sky, they’re all getting shot! You think these are the only bullets we have?” he shot some more, “Stay the fuck away! You can survive being shot, but not them.”

 

The camera slowly went back to the reporter’s face, she seemed very scared. She whispered to herself too softly for most people to hear. Clark heard it.

 

“My dad’s in there.”

 

Snapping out of her worried daze, the reporter did her best to look professional.

 

“Please, Batman. Please be listening. We need you here.”

 

Bruce clicked the television off, perhaps trying to cut the tension. Clark needed to come up with an excuse to leave. He needed to save those people.

 

But Bruce was speaking before he could even open his mouth.

 

“Clark. I got to….I just remembered I need to call one of my employees about something. Sorry. It’s a private call, so I’m going to leave you alone for a while. Will you—”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Clark said, happy to have this as an excuse, “The news was a bit unnerving. I might need to lie down.”

 

Bruce smiled, “Then let Alfred show you to a guestroom. I’d love you to lie down in one of my beds.”

 

It was another one of his dirty jokes, but he didn’t seem to be in nearly as high spirits as before. The news must’ve upset Bruce quite a bit.

 

With that, he left. Clark made sure he was long gone before he pulled off his shirt, revealing his Superman symbol underneath. Fuck what that goon said. He was going to get those people to safety.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still working my way through this one. Been plotting and replotting a bit. Also with work, it's been harder to keep a consistent updating schedule. Sorry about that, guys. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one alright.

Superman didn’t do stealth well. But even he knew better than to just fly on over and try to save the day like he usually did. It was clear that the goons were keeping a sharp eye above them. All they needed to do was push a button and they could notify the crooks inside to shoot the hostages.

The Man of Steel had managed to arrive undetected on foot. But as he watched from a safe distance, behind a building where no one could see, Superman realized he was stuck. The goons were far too spread out. Even with his super speed, he couldn’t take them all down before they had time to shoot at least one person. And for him, one casualty was one too many.

“Where’s the bat? Where is he?” asked the most outspoken crook. He shot some more bullets in the air, causing the bystanders to shriek in terror.

As Superman debated what to do, his eagle eyes spotted something as it fell to the ground. Someone from above had dropped a small black ball underneath the goon’s feet. Before long, smoke came out, covering the crooks in its suffocating embrace. 

“Hey, wha-“ something cut the goon off before he could finish what he was about to say. Although Superman couldn’t see what was going on, he had a pretty good feeling who used the smoke bomb just then.

This was his chance. While Batman distracted them, Superman rushed toward the door, bursting through it with great speed. He ran up the steps to the top floor, where Two-Face was keeping the hostages, something he figured out thanks to using his x-ray vision earlier. He was in front of the tied-up victims in no time.

They were shocked at first. Then a mixture of amazement and relief flooded their grateful eyes. But their fear came back just as quickly as it had left. Their muffled cries were trying to warn the hero of something. Getting the hint, Superman turned around.

And his blood ran cold.

Two-Face glared at him while his gun pressed against one man’s temple. By the ropes and gag, it was clear to Superman that he was another hostage. How did he miss him?

Two-Face studied him with a dark look in his eyes. Half of his lip formed a wry smirk. Most villains knew there wasn’t much they could do to hurt Superman himself. But they also knew how much Superman hated seeing the innocent suffer.

“You shouldn’t have come. You were warned,” Two-Face said simply.

Superman was scared. He couldn’t even look the hostage he had failed in the eye. He had to do something, anything, to distract Two-Face long enough to save him.

“Wait. We can talk this out. Let him go.”

But Two-Face seemed more interested in his gun than what he was saying. Anger was evident across his deformed features. And the finger on the trigger pressed in the most threatening manner.

“Let’s see if you really are faster than a speeding bullet.”

“Wait no!”

Click. The horrified Superman had expected blood next, with the poor hostage dead on the floor. Instead, nothing came out of the weapon. Two-Face blinked in confusion. Superman didn’t have time to question it. This was his only chance. He rushed forward and punched the crook square in the jaw. Two-Face’s body flew into the wall, while the hostage was left standing in a daze at what just happened. 

Two-Face fell slumped on the floor, completely knocked unconscious from that one hit. And from the sounds of cheering outside, it was clear that Batman had taken care of all the other goons. 

Superman made quick work of the knots. Once they were free, the captives cheered and huddled around him like dogs excited to see their master. He offered them a wave before flying out of an open window, ignoring the protests of the people wanting his picture. 

The hero managed to find a secluded spot on top of the roof. There were a few crooks there, but they were unconscious and tied up, no longer a threat to anyone. No doubt that was the Dark Knight’s doing as well.

He stayed still for a long time, watching the people celebrate below.

“You shouldn’t have come,” a dark voice said behind him.

Superman coolly glanced at the Dark Knight. Batman didn’t look any happier to see him than last time. If anything, he seemed even more pissed off. Batman approached him with cold and calculating steps. Distrusting Superman didn’t mean Batman was afraid of him.

“I can’t let someone die if I know they’re in trouble.”

“I told you to stay out of Gotham. You nearly got someone killed today,” Batman grunted. It was a little surprising that he knew about that. One of the hostages must’ve ratted Superman out to him.

Superman held his gaze, even though he was almost too ashamed to face him after that accusation. He thought back to how scared that man was, with Two-Face’s pistol pressed unfairly against his head. Superman had almost failed to save him. It hurt to even think about.

“Well thanks to your nifty gadgets, I didn’t. That was you, right? You’re the reason Two-Face’s gun didn’t work.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed, “I deactivated all the weapons before fighting. I prepare myself for battle.”

He didn’t have to say ‘unlike you’ for Superman to understand he was being chastised. Superman felt like a boy again, desperately trying to get praise from his superiors. He wanted Batman to like him. He knew he should feel silly about this intense desire. And yet, Superman couldn’t help himself.

Batman and Superman. A dream team. Why did he want this so badly?

“We can work together. I can help you stop the Joker. You can trust me.”

Batman said nothing. He just glared in silence. It was driving Superman nuts with worry. He had no idea why he was acting like a dog being rejected a bone. Perhaps not even Superman was above being a total Batman fanboy.

“I haven’t look through—”

“—my mask. Yes. You told me before. But I don’t care whether you peak or not. You cannot hold that over me as if I owe you a favor.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

But Batman cut him off, “—You wanted me to be grateful. Why else would you keep bringing it up?”

A sting of anger and disappointment stabbed through Superman like a knife. Batman was being a jerk, but he was also right, as much as Superman loathed to admit it. And the fact that Batman was correct infuriated him even more.

“I’m not a monster,” Superman said.

“Maybe not,” Batman’s tone held no emotion, “But you’re an alien with the power to destroy the earth. And clearly reckless too. That’s not a good combination.”

Superman didn’t have a response. Seeing that his point was made, Batman began to walk away.

“This is your last chance. If I see you here again, you will have to answer to me.”

When Superman saw that he was about to leave, his mind searched frantically for a last-minute idea. What could he say to get the Batman to trust him?

“Wait. I have access to kryptonite.”

Bingo. Batman stopped dead in his tracks. He glanced back at Superman, his interest clearly peaked.

“I can help you get enough to kill me. Then if you ever have reason to believe I’m heading down the wrong path, you can use it.”

For a short moment Batman seemed to be considering this. There was something else on his face as well. Amazement?

But then Batman’s eyes darkened.

“I already have kryptonite,” he turned away.

“What? But….” Superman trailed off as the Dark Knight pulled out his Batclaw from his belt, aiming it at a building adjacent from where they stood.

“I don’t need your help with anything. Not even in subduing you.”

After the final rejection Superman was at the end of his rope. He acted without thought, as if an impulse was commanding his next step. 

He looked through the cowl.

And his heart stopped.

“Bruce….Wayne?”

Again, the Dark Knight paused. He heard Superman, even though the Man of Steel spoke in barely a whisper.

“So, you decided to peak after all.”

That was all he said before he shot his gadget. A second later, Batman (no Bruce) was gone, leaving Superman to his disorientation. His head was swimming. Batman and Bruce Wayne. He was trying to connect the two together, but the pieces just didn’t fit. Hell, they didn’t even feel like they were in the same puzzle.

Superman felt the sudden need to lie down.

 

“Mr. Kent. Where we you these pass few hours?”

“Mr. Kent, is it true that you’ve officially moved to Wayne Manor?”

“Mr. Kent, will you still be working at the Daily Planet, now that you’re engaged to Mr. Wayne?”

“Mr. Kent. Is there any truth to the rumor that Bruce’s adopted sons are against your upcoming marriage?”

“No comment. No comment!” with that, Clark slammed the door on the crowd. He could hear them shuffling outside. Mercifully, a cop’s voice was telling them to leave if they weren’t customers at the inn. Maybe Clark could finally get some quiet time to think. He had a lot on his mind that he needed to sort through.

He placed his glasses on the end table, then fell across the bed. He wasn’t surprised that people thought he was getting married to Bruce. People tend to take the truth and let their imaginations run wild with it. Now that they knew Clark and Bruce were dating, they were thinking of marriage, true love, and possibly even adoption. It was just how public opinion seemed to work.This was something Clark had come to observe during his years working as a journalist.

He wondered what Bruce thought of the false rumors.

Clark tried to picture Bruce Wayne, the arrogant playboy, as a hero hiding in the shadows to strike at crooks. But even though he had seen the truth with his own eyes, it was hard to believe. And if Bruce was actually Batman, then did that mean he didn’t need Clark’s protection after all?

If that were the case, then Clark had no reason to continue dating him. He could return to Metropolis. It would make Batman happy to see Superman finally leave his town. And as for Bruce Wayne’s and Clark’s relationship, well Bruce might not like Clark for much longer either.

Oh whatever. It wasn’t like he ever wanted Bruce to like him anyway.

‘Ah! But you did, remember? You wanted Batman to like you. And he is Batman. So you wanted Bruce Wayne to like you,’ an evil thought told him. Clark didn’t give it the satisfaction of being acknowledged.

Clark thought about ways to call it off with Bruce, but a pang in his chest made him hesitate. It felt like a sense of loss now that he was considering it. He refused to believe this was because he liked being Bruce’s boyfriend. But since he couldn’t think of any other reason, Clark decided to stop pondering it altogether. He needed something to distract his brain for awhile.

The superhero grabbed the remote and clicked the tv on. It began with the news. Clark’s left eyebrow raised slightly when he saw Lex Luthor’s face on the screen. Underneath him were text that read “Luthor’s Perspective on Project Arkham.”

“The idea is frivolous at best and dangerous at worst. Metropolis has plenty of facilities to house our criminals. We hardly need another, especially one that’s been proven ineffective many times before.”

A voice from off screen spoke up, “And what do you mean by dangerous, mayor?”

Lex’s mouth twisted in displeasure, “It’s dangerous because a joint facility with Gotham could risk Metropolis becoming a new home for Gotham’s crooks. What would happen if Arkham Asylum decides to bring Poison Ivy over here? Or Penguin? Or the Riddler?”

“Superman could stop them,” the voice pointed out. But it seemed Lex was prepared for that one.

“Superman has plenty of crooks to deal with already. He protects this city. It would be a slap in the face if we were to make that more difficult for him, especially with a plan that might not work. Superman deserves better.”

Clark felt his jaw tightened. Lex Luthor was the one who should’ve been called Two-Face. He was all about opposing Superman in public until it became more popular to like him. There were still people who didn’t trust the alien. But they were the minority in Metropolis nowadays.

Seeing Lex pretend to support Superman was almost as bad as seeing him badmouth Project Arkham. Now that the mayor himself has refused to support it, people might follow his example. Lex had a lot of influence over public opinion.

Poor Bruce. Clark couldn’t hate him no matter what. He only wished Batman felt the same way about Superman. 

Suddenly his cell began to read. Speak of the devil, it was Bruce of all people. Clark pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hey.”

“Clark! Where’d you go? You left without saying goodbye.”

Oh shit. Clark had been feeling so sorry for himself that he had forgotten to be a good guest. Alfred must’ve thought he was extremely rude now.

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” he fished up an excuse, “I had just remembered that I had an article to finish and I left all my work at the inn. I tried to tell you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“Oh. I’m sorry about that! I had to leave for a few minutes. I guess I was gone longer than I had anticipated.”

Of course, Clark knew damn well where he had been. But it wasn’t like he could blame him for lying. Not since Clark himself was guilty of the exact same thing, for the exact same reason. Honesty was the one virtue that a superhero could not keep.

Clark opened his mouth in order to start talking about Lex Luthor, but he thought better of it. Bruce would find out later. And he couldn’t bring himself to be the one who gave him the news. 

“Anyway, if you finished with work, want to grab a bite to eat? I can pick you up at the inn and shield you from all those reporters. How’d you get pass them anyway?”

“I just pushed my way through.”

“Hey, that’s what I do. You’re learning quickly, Clark. Soon you’ll be just as good as avoiding them as I am.”

Was this guy really Batman? Was the playboy thing all an act? Or was it the gloom and doom that was the act?

Clark had a sudden urge to figure out where Bruce Wayne ended and where Batman began. He had a thought. He wouldn’t call things off with Bruce right away, because there was still a reason to be his boyfriend. He needed to learn more about him. He needed to find out what possessed Bruce Wayne to become the Dark Knight.

He needed to spend more time with him.

“About that dinner. Let me be the one to take you out.”

“You serious?” Bruce sounded close to laughing, as if the idea was funny to him. The humor insulted Clark.

“You paid for me last time,” Clark pointed out, “Figured it was time I foot the bill.”

“I don’t know, Clark. Going dutch….I was raised to be somewhat of a traditional gentleman. At least before sex.”

It took amazing effort, but Clark managed to ignore that last part.

“You know I’m not a woman, right? I was raised like that too.”

There was a beat as Bruce contemplated what was said. Clark could practically see his handsome clueless face over the phone. And yet he couldn’t imagine a Batman mask over that face. 

Bruce had become a puzzle that he wanted to solve.

“Right,” Bruce’s voice yanked him back to the present, “In that case, I’ll be glad to let you treat me. But don’t worry if you ever change your mind.”

“Believe me. I won’t.”

“I’m just saying, if you do—”

“It won’t happen.”

“There’s no shame in—”

“I’m paying. This discussion’s over.”

Bruce laughed at that. Clark felt his heart swell as he imagined Superman making Batman laugh. He took off his tie and rubbed his shoulder, making a mental note to check if Bruce’s earlier ‘love bite’ was starting to show.

“Okay, I can see when I’m beat. So Pearl Pond? This evening at 6?”

“Pearl Pond? What’s that?”

“A place with some good seafood. I think you’ll really enjoy it. I frequent there whenever I’m in the mood for fish.”

It sounded expensive, but Clark was already committed to paying. Besides, he had saved up some money for a rainy day. And who wouldn’t give up a good chunk of their paycheck to learn more about Batman.

And maybe, if he found out more about him, he could find out how to get him to trust Superman.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Clark smiled.


	7. Chapter 7

Inside the restaurant looked like a marine biologist's wet dream. A huge aquarium encompassed the surrounding area; everywhere you looked, there was a school of fish staring back at you. They swam in all the colors of the rainbow, being the only source of brightness. The main lodge was dim, yet in a comfortable way. Musicians played soft music. The whole place was complete with a giant mermaid fountain in the middle of the room, no doubt made up of the finest marble.

Clark came in and immediately realized that Bruce did this on purpose. He shot his date a dirty look, but the other didn’t seem to notice. Bruce pulled out a chair, had a second thought, then pushed it back and sat in his own seat.

At least he was learning.

Clark wordlessly took the seat that Bruce almost pulled out for him, then brought the menu to his face. He rubbed his neck, careful not rub off the powder he used to hide Bruce’s earlier ‘love bite.’ His lips tightened as he stared at the price tags written in such small text that you would think it was the fine print in a contract or something.

Why were baby eels on the menu? Someone explain him this.

“So what are you thinking?” Bruce asked.

“Hmm? Oh! I guess I might try….”

“No, I mean. What’s been tinkering in your head? You’ve been quiet all night, so I figured you were in thought.”

Clark didn’t know what to say to that. His brain scrambled for a purpose.

“Oh..Um..I was just thinking if we could play our made-up game?”

Bruce blinked, “What game?”

“The one where we ask each other questions.”

“Oh,” the winning smile spread across Bruce’s face. From the hungry look in his eyes, Clark had a feeling he knew what kind of questions he would be asking, “That’s fine with me.”

Clark had caught him like a fish. Now he needed to make sure his questions would provide him the insight he wanted, without getting Bruce suspicious or upset. He still remembered how Batman was not a happy topic for him, so he would have to do this with tact.

Bruce decided to ask the first question, “What turns you on?”

“We’re in public,” Clark lowered his voice and looked around to see if anyone was listening. How could this raunchy man be Gotham City’s Dark Knight?

His flustered reaction caused Bruce to chuckle.

“Guess you’re right. So, I noticed you put a lot of sugar in your coffee the last time we dated. Would you say you have a sweet tooth, Mr. Kent?”

Clark had never really thought about it. He just wasn’t the type of man who liked his coffee black. The taste was a little too much for him. And since he didn’t really need food to survive, it was better for him to enjoy the taste if he ever decided to indulge in it.

But now that Bruce mentioned it, there was a little bit of a pattern to Clark’s diet. He liked extra whipped cream on his pie. He liked sweet tea with a big helping of ice. And he liked pineapple on his pizza.

“Maybe a little,” he admitted. He never considered having a weakness for sugar before. You learned something new about yourself every day, he supposed.

Bruce rubbed his chin thoughtfully. It looked as though an idea was forming inside his devious mind, his eyes drifted to a shark that happened to be passing by.

“That’s good to know. So if I just covered my naked body in chocolate syrup---”

“Okay, my turn,” Clark rudely cut him off. But Bruce was being obscene, so he deserved it. He asked his first prepared question, “What do you normally do after work?”

_Dress up like a bat. Get inside a highly advanced car. And kick some ass._

But instead of saying that, Bruce gave him a cheeky grin.

“Want to know about my nighttime activities, do we?”

“I’m just curious what you do with your spare time?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I seduce sexy male reporters from Metropolis. I like them,” here his voice went husk, “Mild mannered.”

Clark shuddered in a not-so-unpleasant way. People like to define him as such, which he had no problem with since it helped with his disguise. Clark Kent, the mild-mannered reporter. Rarely getting riled up and was most definitely not Superman.

He was struck silent by this response. Even though he didn’t return Bruce’s feelings, it was fun to have Batman flirt with you, even unknowingly.

Damn, was he really that shallow?

“My turn! So, this Bruce Wayne fella. Kiss, marry or bang?”

Okay. So maybe the flirting still got on his nerves a little.

Clark was saved from answering when a waiter came by. He brought two chilled wine glasses and placed them delicately in front of them. Then he poured red wine straight from a bottle. Clark stared at Bruce.

“Did we order this?”

Bruce cracked up laughing. Then he turned to the waiter.

“Thank you. He really is a card, isn’t he?”

“That he is, sir,” the man said in forced humor. Clark didn’t like them talking about him like he was a pet that just did something adorable.

He glared into his menu.

“If I may make a recommendation, the seared mahi-mahi is prepared by Luke Wang, who has served the Queen of England and has won five medals for his culinary talent. It comes with a fresh mixed berry sauce and pairs nicely with your wine.”

Clark opened his mouth to order the cheapest thing he saw, but Bruce beat him to it.

“We’ll both have the stuffed lobster.”

The waiter wrote it down, “Very good, sirs.” With that, he left. Clark was speechless. He didn’t even dare to look at the price tag.

Frowning at Bruce, he said, “I can order my own food, you know? I’m not some damsel from the 1950’s.”

Bruce laughed like Clark made the funniest joke in the world, “Oops. Sorry. My other dates liked me doing it. I guess it was a force of habit.”

“You didn’t do it when we got coffee.”

“Well, this is a little bit more special than coffee,” as if to cement his point, Bruce took a sip of his wine.

While he was occupied, Clark struck with his next question, hoping he was distracted enough not to realize that he was skipping his turn.

“If you could be any superhero, who would it be?”

Bruce almost choked on his drink. He set his glass down and cleared his throat. The waiter was back in a flash, clearly worried about any sort of lawsuit that could result from this. But Bruce waved him off, and like a loyal dog he went.

Once no one was listening, Bruce stared at Clark. Clark had been expecting such a reaction, but he feigned surprise.

“Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” Bruce was now the one frowning, “I guess it went down the wrong tube.”

But Clark wouldn’t let this slide. He continued to press.

“Well?”

“Well what, Clark?”

“What superhero would you be?”

The silence that followed lasted several long seconds. Bruce looked to be having trouble reading Clark’s expression. Clark realized he was suspicious now. He did his best to keep a straight face.

After the awkward moment, Clark decided to try and lure him deeper into an answer.

“I think I’d be Batman myself,” Clark said. He knew he was really pushing it. But he was determined to examine Bruce’s reaction closely.

Bruce fiddled with his glass.

“Really? Why would you say him?” Bruce sounded genuinely curious, not interrogating at all.

“I guess you can say I have a little crush on him.”

Bruce didn’t look happy to hear this, so Clark hastened to save himself.

“I mean. I used to, before I got myself a cute boyfriend.”

Appeased, Bruce smiled. Clark took a swig of his drink, not surprised to find it chilled and the most delicious red wine he’d ever had.

“That’s better. You don’t want to make me jealous.”

“You telling me out of all those superheroes out there, you’ve never had a single crush on any of them?”

Bruce had such a sour look on his face that Clark almost suspected the wine had spoiled.

“Sorry to disappoint, but to be perfectly honest, I’m not exactly a fan of superheroes.”

Such a hypocritical statement led Clark to conclude that it was a lie. But if even if that was the case, Clark couldn’t help but feel insulted. Didn’t Bruce have a perfectly polite discussion with him about superheroes the other day? What had changed?

“Why is that?” Clark tried not to sound defensive.

Bruce couldn’t meet his eye. He looked sad and ashamed, almost like he was confessing to a priest for his ultimate sins.

“They take the law into their own hands. If they really wanted to help, they would put on some cop outfits, not those awful costumes.”

Was Bruce saying this a part of the disguise? Or did Bruce really feel that way? Perhaps the man and the mask were more different than Clark realized. Could Bruce be suffering from some sort of multiple personality disorder?

And damn, did it sting to hear Bruce talk about Superman that way. It was bad enough he got that kind of attitude from Batman.

Speaking of which---

“You feel that way about all of them? Even Batman?” Clark pressed.

“Yes.”

Bruce was trying to get out of the conversation. But it was like Clark couldn’t let the matter drop. As Bruce grew angrier, Clark grew sadder. Neither man looked at each other in the eye. Suddenly staring at their wine was a lot more interesting.

“And Superman? Do you think he’s the dangerous alien that people say?”

“I think I rather talk about something else,” Bruce admitted with finality, “Sorry, Clark. But I wanted this date to talk about us. Not have some fanboy superhero discussion,” he was trying to smile it off like he was cracking a joke. But Clark could tell that he was upset.

Clark tried to understand where Bruce was coming from. Maybe he resented how his disguise got more respect than even Bruce Wayne himself. When the mask got more respect, you begin to feel an inferior complex. Clark knew this for a fact.

The waiter came back with silver dishes. Their heavenly aroma filled Clark’s nostrils with the scent of sea meat, butter, and fruit.

As their meals were provided, Clark realized that people were staring. The crowd had caught onto the tension and were now hoping to see an argument between the two new lovers.

Clark would normally be uncomfortable with all the eyes on him. But with Bruce upset, he found himself only wishing to comfort him. Clark felt terrible. Bruce had wanted another nice date. And still…still Clark was toying with his heart by pretending to return his feelings.

He had to make it up to him somehow.

“Anyway, about your question. I’d kiss him.”

“Pardon?” Bruce looked at Clark.

“When you were asking me about what I’d do with Bruce Wayne. I’d kiss him.”

Realization spark through Bruce’s eyes and a genuine smile followed. He took a bite of his lobster and swallowed, his chin bobbing as he did so. Clark took another bite of his. This time he really tried to enjoy the taste. As it turned out, it really was about the most delicious thing he had ever eaten.

“Aw. You wouldn’t bang him?”

“I’m a gentleman,” Clark joked, “I would need to take him out to dinner first.”

Bruce chuckled. Suddenly, a thoughtful look crossed his face, almost making him look sad. He looked more like Batman than he ever had before.

“Well since you answered my question. I guess I’ll answer yours.”

Clark’s ears perked up.

“Um…Harley Quinn. She’s cute.”

Shocked, and a little insulted (for some reason), Clark had to take a moment to remember which one that was. He thought of all the female superheroes, but none of them match the name. Finally, it struck him.

“Isn’t she the one who helps Joker? She doesn’t count.”

“Why not?" Bruce smiled, amused by Clark’s antics.

“Because we’re talking about superheroes. Not villains. And why would you like her anyway? She’s done terrible things.”

Bruce couldn’t resist chuckling at that. It looked like he really wanted to pinch Clark’s cheeks just then. Seeing his reaction angered the reporter even more.

“Clark Kent. You’re not jealous, are you?”

Well, maybe he deserved that for talking about his crush on Batman.

Wait. No! Bruce was Batman. What was Clark thinking?

“Dream on, Bruce. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to idealize people like that.”

Bruce continued to smile, but Clark saw it faltered a bit. Bruce’s serious nature was leaking out of his joking façade.

“Hate to say it, but I’m not the only one. People all over the country are fans of Gotham’s criminals. I think they like the allure of how bad they are. I cannot tell you how many Poison Ivy and Riddler fans I’ve seen around town. I’m surprised you haven’t.”

Clark frowned at this. Before he could open his mouth to respond, someone came up to their table. As Clark turned, his eyebrows nearly raised to the roof. Bruce greeted the newcomer with a smile.

“Ah! Sofia. What a pleasant surprise!”

It was the woman from the fundraiser. The one who thought Bruce’s Project Arkham idea was stupid. At the sight of her crush, the middle-aged woman gushed. She giggled underneath her throat as a large Cheshire smile stretched her lips.

“It is, isn’t it? I was so worried about you during the terrible fiasco at the fundraiser.”

Bruce stood up in order to meet her. He caught Clark off guard when Bruce took her hand and kissed it. Did the upper class still do that sort of thing?

Clark ignored the sting of betrayal he felt as he saw that.

“I cannot tell you how sorry I am. Rest assured all the guards on duty have been fired.”

That sounded extreme to Clark, but it appeased the woman. Bruce offered her a seat.

“Thank you. But I really must be going. I’ve been having the most awful time coming up with new designs, you see. I need to head back to work.”

“So soon?”

“Well, you do need to spend time with your new lover.”

She forced a smile as she stared at Clark. Clark could sense the hidden danger underneath. He remembered Lois’s warning about how some women wanted his head on a platter. Now he suspected Sofia Romas to be one of them.

“You have my personal number if you ever want to talk, Bruce.”

She said. With that, she left the restaurant. Clark waited until she was completely out of the room to shoot Bruce a questioning look.

“You do?”

“Not willingly. She gave it to me. I thought I’d could use her resources if Project Arkham needed it.”

Clark fiddled with his glass, “How is the project going, by the way?”

“Sorry, Clark. But it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Bruce---”

“Let’s see….”

“Bruce---”

“If you had a billion dollars---”

“Bruce. I’m a reporter, you know. If you need my help with anything. Anything that can get Project Arkham off the ground, I’m willing.”

The billionaire frowned when he saw that he couldn’t escape the topic. He rubbed his temples. A shark swam over his head, looking like it hadn’t a care in the world. Clark found himself a little jealous of it.

“Thanks, Clark. But I don’t know if there’s anything left that can be done.”

“You’re giving up?”

Bruce took a hold of his glass. He stared at the red wine, instead of Clark, and he shrugged.

“It seems that Lex has convinced most of Metropolis not to go through with it.”

“Then try another town.”

But Bruce shook his head.

“If people being protected by Superman are worried about this transferring thing, then no one else will be on board either. Listen, Clark. The more I think about it, the more I realized that it was a stupid idea.”

Batman wouldn’t give up so easily.

So…could it be true? Was there some sort of personality disorder going on that Clark hadn’t taken into account? Did Bruce even know he was Batman? Or did something happen to him at night that made him transform as if he was a werewolf?

And how come Alfred didn’t notice him sneaking off to fight crime at night? Unless he knew about it?

“Hey, don’t worry. It was just a silly pet project. They fail all the time. Why don’t we stop talking about it and talk about each other?”

Bruce took his silence to be one of pity. He wasn’t that far from the truth, if Clark was being honest with himself.

Suddenly, the room went dark. Confused voices echoed across the room, with a few people even demanding the servers to do something pronto.

“Bruce?”

“I’m here, Clark. I guess they forgot to pay the electric bill.”

But the joke was short lived. From where the orchestra played, a single beam of light shone on the Joker’s smiling face. People cried out.

Behind Joker were a few goons dressed as clowns, each carrying a gun in their hands. As people scrambled around blindly, Joker cackled.

“Don’t you all know it’s rude to leave before the performance? Which is why I made sure no one will. Now. If you don’t want to find yourself full of lead, you’ll sit. Down.”

With that order, the goons aimed their guns at everyone. They wore some sort of visor that must’ve helped them see their targets. Realizing this, people began to obey the Joker’s instructions.

Clark was about to take off his disguise when his table was suddenly illuminated, revealing him and Bruce. Bruce glared at Joker with all the hatred of a cornered cat looking at a dog.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen. For tonight’s entertainment. I need a volunteer. Will Bruce Wayne be so helpful as to come up here?”


	8. Chapter 8

Clark felt his heart nearly stop. No, not here! Not now! He looked at Bruce. He was able to see his expression now that the light was shining on them.

 

Bruce must’ve forgotten that he wasn’t Batman right now, for he didn’t even bother looking scared. Instead, he glared at the clown like he was ready to break him in half. The unwilling audience watched with bated breath. They seemed thankful that, at least, the Joker wasn’t after them.

 

For now.

 

Clark couldn’t become Superman with all these people watching. But Bruce couldn’t fight off Joker without his disguise either. Suddenly, the billionaire stood up.

 

Clark spoke before he could stop himself, “Hey. You don’t have to do this. We can….I’ll distract him while—”

 

“No,” Bruce cut him off, “I’m the one he wants. Don’t antagonize him, Clark.”

 

“But….” Clark trailed off. He knew he could beat this clown with one punch, if he just had the opportunity. The Joker smiled from up on stage. He beckoned Bruce over with a wag of his finger, like he was a puppy.

 

“Don’t keep the good people waiting, Bruce. They might lose their heads over it.”

 

As if on cue, one of the goons aimed at someone’s head. He cowered underneath the table.

 

“Stop. I’m coming,” Bruce said. Joker cracked up after hearing the anger in his voice. Suddenly the clown had fire in his eyes.

 

“Then. Get. Over. Here. Now.” He punctuated each word to strengthen the command. Disobedience wasn’t an option. Bruce refused to look Clark in the eye as he walked to his doom. The goons held their guns at Bruce. Despite this, Bruce showed no fear.

 

Once he was close enough, Joker patted Bruce’s back, smiling at him as if they were old friends. The light continued to shine on Clark’s table. If he moved, there could be trouble. But he couldn’t change here either. He was stuck.

 

Joker lifted his hands up in the air as he gave his grand speech.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen. Prepare to be amazed with some death-defying tricks. I promise that you’ll be on the edge of your seat the whole way through. Bruce here will help me with my target practice.”

 

_Come on, Kent! Think! You need to save him. Bruce might be Batman, but right now he needed all the help he could get._

And yet, Clark found himself frozen. What could he do? He looked around the room. His eyes landed on the aquarium behind him.

 

Could he create a diversion?

 

Meanwhile, Joker grabbed an apple off of someone’s table, breathed on it and then rubbed it against his coat. After he inspected it, the clown placed the fruit on Bruce’s head, who remained motionless, but glaring. Joker pulled a gun out, causing the audience to whimper and pray silently to themselves. Ironically Bruce was the one who showed the least amount of fear.

 

Meanwhile Clark pressed his palm against the glass behind him. He was careful not to make too much noise. Everyone else’s attention was off him, so he had to make sure it stayed that way.

 

Joker pulled the trigger.

 

Bang! Like a Loony Toon short, a note popped out of the barrel. Joker cracked up laughing when Bruce didn’t even flinch.

 

“You got more guts than I thought. I can’t wait to see them all over the floor.”

 

Then the clown fished through his pocket. Clark knew his time was running out. The glass began to crack just a little. Clark pressed a little harder even though doing so would risk detection.

 

Joker pulled out a revolver. He aimed straight at Bruce’s head….

 

An explosion of water blast against Clark’s back. People ran out of their seats in a desperate attempt for the exit. Not even the Joker’s guards were willing to stick around once the fishes began flying everywhere.

 

The shark landed in the middle of the room, flopping uselessly, causing people to scream louder. Clark felt bad that he had essentially killed it, but he knew he didn’t have any other choice. While people were distracted, he changed to Superman in a blink of an eye.

 

“Where are you going? I’ll kill all of you!” Joker threatened. He tore his attention away from Bruce. Superman flew right to his boyfriend and scooped him up in one fell swoop. He carried him bridal style in the air, while Bruce stared at him in utter shock. Superman offered him a kind smile.

 

“Hope you’re not going to make a habit of pissing him off.”

 

He barely dodged a bullet zipping through the air. Joker was firing relentlessly, desperate to hit Bruce. Superman held on tight. He couldn’t lose Bruce. He just couldn’t.

 

Superman decided to do something he normally reserved for more powerful enemies. He blew a gust of icy wind square in the Joker’s face. The shock on Joker’s face cemented in a block of ice. The evil clown was now a frozen statue, gun still in hand. Superman was happy to note that it was now useless. He barely registered that he had an urge to press Bruce protectively to his chest. For appearance’s sake, he resisted.

 

Everyone was gone now. Sirens could be heard outside, meaning that Joker’s goons would soon be dealt with too.

 

“You can let me down now,” Bruce said.

 

Superman realized he had been cradling him in the air for quite some time. He blushed. It had felt nice carrying Bruce, nicer than it felt carrying anyone else to safety. And Superman didn’t know why.

 

The alien looked at how the floor was pooling with water. He decided that Bruce would do better up on stage where it was still reasonably dry. He set him down gently. Bruce took that moment to look him in the eye. It was like he was examining him. Superman allowed him to do so, hoping that Bruce would see he wasn’t the villain that Batman made him out to be.

 

Finally Bruce said, “Um….thanks…I guess. Aren’t you normally in Metropolis?”

 

Superman offered a friendly hero’s smile, although inside he was confused. Why was Bruce acting so friendly? He knew that Superman knew his secret, after all?

 

Or did he? Were there things that Bat knew that the Man didn't?

 

“I figured it was time for me to take a vacation.”

 

Bruce laughed at the joke. A genuine laugh, “And the best place for superheroes to relax is in Gotham City? You should fire your travel agent.”

 

He was talking to Superman. And he wasn’t treating him with suspicion or cruelty. Bruce spoke to him like a normal human being, something that Batman failed at. Superman wanted to jump for joy, but he had to look cool in front of the other man.

 

Bruce looked at the frozen Joker behind him, “Will he survive?”

 

Superman knew this wasn’t out of character. Batman hated death, even when it came to his enemies.

 

“Yes. I just had to subdue him long enough for the police to take him away,” Superman frowned, “I don’t kill. Not even on accident. If I thought it would’ve been too harsh, I swear that I would’ve thought of something else.”

 

It was Batman he was trying to convince of this. Superman poured his heart into his words, praying that he could earn Bruce’s trust once and for all. Catching onto the slight desperation in his voice, Bruce stared at him.

 

“I believe you.”

 

Three words. They were simple but made enough of an impact to make Superman’s heart soar. Finally, he was getting through to him. It felt so good to hear Batman say that.

 

Superman hadn’t realized he was about to kiss Bruce until the human stopped him. Bruce sent him an apologetic smile.

 

“Sorry. I already have a boyfriend.”

 

Superman blushed. He cleared his throat before hovering in the air. He still tried to look cool, although he had now lost a considerable amount of composure.

 

“I’ve been rejected in worse ways. Well, I gotta go now. I don’t think the shark’s going to do anything to you,” he looked at said fish that was gasping for water.

 

He flew away before Bruce could say anything else.

 

 

“Where have you been?” Bruce found Clark just as the crowd was finally beginning to die down. Gordon had to hall Joker off with three able-bodied men. People snapped all kinds of pictures with their phones, despite the police’s disapproval. Now people were finally returning home.

 

Clark feigned a guilty look, “Bruce. I am so sorry.”

 

“What for?” Bruce blinked. He was genuinely confused by what Clark was talking about.

 

“I…I ran away when you were in trouble. I should’ve—”

 

“What could you have done? Other than get yourself shot. Which is not something I would ever want, by the way.”

 

Clark had expected this reaction. He was playing the part of a useless guilty boyfriend in order to keep his disguise. And Bruce played along beautifully.

 

Of course, Clark could reveal who he was now that Bruce seemed to like Batman a bit more. But something in him held him back. Bruce fell in love with Clark. How would he feel if Clark was nothing like the man he thought he was?

 

Clark needed more information on Bruce. He needed to know him in and out, in order to figure out how he would take it the news.

 

Besides…..he didn’t want to ruin the relationship they had. But which one did Clark really want to know more about? Bruce or Batman?

 

When Clark failed to answer, Bruce looked him in the eyes and pleaded, "Clark. Don't try to be a hero. I can't stand the thought of you being hurt."

 

It was sweet. It was also sad. Clark felt his heart melting at Bruce's words. The one time Bruce wasn't even trying to seduce him, Clark decided he was dreamy.

 

What the hell was wrong with him? First the attempted kiss and now these thoughts? Clark had never felt this way about a person before.

 

“I guess there’s nothing I could’ve done. But still,” Clark looked away, “Superman had to save you. When I’m your boyfriend. I should be the one protecting you.”

 

Bruce smirked, “Aww. I would love to be your damsel in distress. Maybe next time.”

 

“There won’t be a next time. Joker’s not coming after you any time soon. I saw that that scumbag had been turned into an ice sculpture. You’ll be safe from now on.”

 

He smiled. Almost on instinct, Clark took hold of both Bruce’s arms and looked him in the eye. It was a comforting gesture. Clark knew Batman didn’t need consoling, but Clark didn’t know that about Bruce.

 

Bruce returned the smile with a hungry grin.

 

“I know how you can make it up to me.”

 

Clark repressed the urge to sigh. He certainly recovered quickly, didn’t he?

 

 

It turned out Bruce’s idea of apology was taking Clark back to the manor and eating ice cream. The scoops were all sorts of colors, beautifully placed on top of expensive glass bowls. The two ate on the couch, despite Alfred’s protests.

 

“If we leave a stain, I’ll buy another one, Alfred.”

 

“If you leave a stain, you’ll have to buy another butler, Master Bruce.”

 

Here Bruce feigned hurt.

 

“You would leave over ice cream? After all we been through?”

 

The two men turned their heads towards Clark when he began laughing. The bowl in his hand shook as he did so, but he made sure the frozen treat stayed inside. Alfred eyed him with a frown.

 

“Something amuse you, sir?”

 

“Sorry,” Clark chuckled, “It’s just you guys are acting like an old married couple.”

 

“We are not,” the two men insisted in unison. Clark had to place his ice cream on top of the counter because he was laughing too hard and he was afraid of spilling it. If he wasn’t careful, Alfred was going to tie him up in a body bag.

 

Alfred managed a genuine smile. It seemed that he enjoyed seeing Clark having such a good time. Meanwhile Bruce was just stunned, looking at Clark as if he had grown a second head.

 

“How could you laugh at me, Clark? I almost died today.”

 

“Oh, hush, Master Wayne. I rather enjoy seeing someone having a good time at the manor. I haven’t seen that since the boys lived here,” Alfred took a broom he had in his hands and began to exit, “If I see one stain, you’re both going on the street.”

 

“Did he always have a sense of humor?” Clark asked when the butler left. He remembered how uptight Alfred had acted when they first met, so this change in demeanor certainly didn’t go unnoticed.

 

“He has his moments where he thinks he’s a real comedian. I always hate April Fool’s because he likes to trick me on that day. He once got me out of bed when he promised me pancakes. But what he made for breakfast was plain oatmeal. There wasn’t even anything in it to make it taste better. He’s evil sometimes, Clark.”

 

“Maybe you should consider getting another butler?”

 

That earned him a smile, “Or maybe a maid? I have an outfit that might fit you, if you’re interested in a job.”

 

Clark frowned, “Are you imagining me in provocative clothing?”

 

“I do it every day.”

 

The shameless retort was enough to send Clark over the edge. He decided that --- just this once ---Superman would do an evil deed.

 

“Okay, Bruce. Do something for me. Imagining those clothes….”

 

“Y…yeah?” Bruce’s blush indicated that he was liking where this conversation was going.

 

“And mentally put them on Alfred.”

 

Bruce threw his head back. The disgust on his face was too much. Clark howled with laughter, while Bruce set his ice cream down on the table next to him. He had almost spilled it just now.

 

“Wow, Clark! Now I’m never going to get that image out of my head. Thanks a lot.”

 

“Serves you right.”

 

“What? Because I’m flirting with my boyfriend?”

 

“There’s a fine line between flirting and just being a pervert. You’re just being a pervert.”

 

The two looked at each other in mocked glares. Smiles were etching on their lips as they both found themselves enjoying their joke. Bruce took a spoonful of ice cream, holding his free hand out in case he spilled any. He offered the spoon to Clark and the reporter just stared.

 

Bruce smirked at the silent question, “Don’t you want a bite?”

 

“I have my own ice cream,” Clark stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

 

“But I want to do feed you like this.”

 

“What? Like a baby?”

 

Bruce waved the spoon around, as if doing that would entice Clark.

 

“Haven’t you ever done this with your lover before? It’s really fun.”

 

“Uh huh?” Clark muttered in disbelief. The spoon was practically touching his lips, showing Bruce’s eagerness in the idea.

 

“Come on. Just try it. For me? You did say you wanted to make things up to me, after all.”

 

Leave it to Bruce Wayne to use a guilt trip in order to get what he wanted. Clark wondered if this was something Batman would do, or if this was all still part of the act. He wanted to find out, but the last time mentioning heroes had been a bust. And Clark wanted to wait a while before trying again.

 

Finally, Clark decided to relent. He took a bite, tasting the cool mint appreciatively. Bruce scooted closer, making sure to take the bowl with him. He was about to get another spoonful of ice cream when Clark beat him to it. Clark held his own spoon in front of Bruce’s face. Bruce seemed confused for a moment, before realization sparked through his eyes. He took a bite.

 

The two men went back and forth, feeding the other with their own food. Clark found that after the feeling of awkwardness went away, it was actually an enjoyable experience. Bruce was obviously having so much fun that his joy was contagious. Plus, there was something serene in such a domesticated act of love. Superman didn’t get to enjoy this kind of peace too often, and he knew that Batman didn’t either.

 

Before he realized it, both their bowls were empty. Clark didn’t have time to feel a sense of loss, for Bruce toppled over on top of him, pinning him down on the couch. Bruce looked down at him with blue eyes boring into his own.

 

He leaned his head in. Clark met him hallway, expecting to feel Bruce’s lips on his own. Instead, Bruce pulled over and landed the kiss on top of Clark’s forehead. Clark felt a million fibers of pleasure surge pulsate through him from that one simple act.

 

Clark didn’t know if it was a Kryptonian thing, but this always happened whenever he was kissed there. The sensation would send his nerves over the edge. The first time it happened, his mother was giving him a goodnight kiss. And he remembered how much if affected him.

 

So he decided that this kind of affection was only reserved for people he truly loved. And right now, he wasn’t angry that Bruce had done this. He….actually liked it.

 

He could no longer deny it. His feelings for Bruce were real.

 

Bruce pulled away and chuckled.

 

“You weren’t kidding about that being your favorite place. Your face is practically a tomato.”

 

Clark had no reply. He couldn’t even find his voice.

 

“Clark? Did I break you?”

 

“No,” Clark choked out, “I was….just expecting something else.”

 

“You mean. Like this?”

 

And then Bruce kissed him on the lips. Clark felt himself turning a puddle of goo. After that first kiss, he was puddy in Bruce’s hands. Clark wished the good feeling would never end.

 

He felt Bruce’s breath on his ear.

 

“Why don’t you spend the night here?” then added a little less confidently, “Please?”

 

“Yes.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Where are you taking me?” Clark frowned as Bruce gently pushed him from behind. Both of Bruce’s hands covered Clark’s eyes to keep him from peeking. Well, Clark could technically still look. But he wanted to indulge his new boyfriend.

 

“My own personal room. Ta da!” Bruce let go, allowing Clark to see for the first time.

 

It was a room unlike any other: part outdoor longue, part bathroom, part living room, part kitchen and part play area. A hot top stationed itself off to the side, and a tv was right above it. The hot tub in question was big enough to hold four people at once. Clark could only imagine why that would be. A fridge was close by, accompanied by an arrangement of comfy looking chairs and a mini bar with chilled drinks. Another tv, different from the other one, had the latest game console attached. A laptop sat across from it, as well as a couch, a dressing area, a bookshelf and even a fireplace.

 

Clark honestly didn’t know what to make of it----it was impressive, yes. But it was also a bit much. And what was with all the self-portraits of Bruce on the walls? Did Batman have such a high opinion of himself that he felt the need to be plastered everywhere?

 

“So…what do you think?” Bruce asked. Clark could hear genuine hope in his voice and for once, he didn’t want to make a snarky retort.

 

Clark smiled, “It’s really something.”

 

“You don’t like it,” Bruce didn’t ask because it wasn’t a question.

 

Clark rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. His forced smile became a little more genuine.

 

“I think it’s great. I just don’t know what’s so special about it. It looks like all your other rooms.”

 

“Oh. But this one is special,” Bruce grinned with all humor returning, “This is the place that keeps me sane after working all night. I call it the Bruce room. I like to chill out here and collect my thoughts. It’s a very special room to me. That’s why I wanted to show it to you.”

 

Now Clark was sorry that his initial response had been so underwhelming. Was this really the place that Bruce—that Batman—went to after ‘work?’ If so, then this place must’ve been a haven he only shared with a selected few people.

 

Clark spoke with more sincerity than ever before, “Thank you for showing me this. You have no idea how much it means to me. Heh. With all these portraits, I can tell why you call it the Bruce room.”

 

Just as he said this, Alfred came by. He gave Bruce a suspicious look, to which Bruce merely smiled. The exchange left Clark confused.

 

“Are you going to take the whole night off, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked hopefully. Bruce glanced at his wristwatch.

 

“Oh! It’s that time already? Clark, I’m so sorry. But I have business to attend to. I wish I didn’t. But it’s really important.”

 

“That’s okay. I understand having to work overtime.”

 

Besides, it also helped that Clark knew exactly what Bruce was planning on doing. As a hero himself, Clark was in no position to stop him, even if he wanted to.

 

“Yes. A shame Master Bruce here has to work the night shift so much. You would think he’d take a break every once in a while.”

 

Bruce ignored the subtle jab from his butler. He fixed his tie.

 

“If you get tired, Alfred can show you to your room. I might be a while. But please, help yourself to anything in the house. Books, food, anything.”

 

Bruce kissed Clark on the cheek. Clark smiled.

 

“Thanks, Bruce. And thank you for showing me this place.”

 

Alfred sent Bruce another look, but the billionaire was out before he could catch it. Clark sighed sadly. He knew he couldn’t get angry at the abrupt exit. He was guilty of doing it himself on multiple occasions.

 

He felt Alfred’s eyes on him. Clark turned to face the old man, who had been inspecting him closely. The butler’s expression was deadly serious.

 

“Master Clark. I’m afraid to inform you that Master Bruce has not been entirely truthful. There’s something you need to know.”

 

Clark felt the blood leave his face. No way. Was Alfred—Bruce’s supposedly faithful friend—actually going to tell him Bruce’s secret?

 

“This is not the Bruce room.”

 

It was the last thing Clark had expected to come out of Alfred’s mouth. He had to take a moment to get his brain to register what he had just heard. Relief flooded inside him. So Alfred wasn’t going to be revealing any secret identities after all. Now Clark felt foolish that he had considered that a possibility.

 

“Oh?”

 

Alfred extended his hand behind him as if to say “ _please come this way._ ”

 

“I know Master Bruce won’t approve. But I simply cannot allow his boyfriend to be misinformed of something as special as the Bruce room.”

 

He walked toward where the desk which held the laptop. Alfred typed a few random buttons on it while Clark watched from afar. Clark arched his eyebrow. Nothing was happening.

 

After he was finished, Alfred walked to the tv that was connected to the game console and pressed something on the wall behind it. With a swoosh, a hidden door opened up just in front of Clark. The reporter stared inside in wonder. It was another room; comfortable, but much smaller.

 

In it was a single chair meant to relax in, with an old record player right behind it. But what was most notable about the room was all the pictures on the walls.

 

And they weren’t of Bruce. They were all of other people. The largest was at the very top, depicting a man and a woman with a very young boy. Clark pointed at it.

 

“Are those people who I think they are?” he didn’t have to look behind him to know that Alfred was right there.

 

“Master Thomas and Miss Martha Wayne. That photo used to be in the main lounge for all to see. But after their tragedy, Bruce wanted to keep it somewhere safe. He doesn’t show it, but he enjoys nothing more than basking in happy memories of his loved ones. That’s why he likes to spend his leisure time here.”

 

“He just sits and stares?”

 

“And reminisces.”

 

For a second, Clark wasn’t sure what to make of this revelation. But after a few seconds of pondering, it made more sense that Batman would spend time here than the other “Bruce room.”

 

Clark took his time looking at the pictures. Many of them were of the same three boys, whom Clark assumed were Bruce’s adopted sons. Though they all had similar hair and colored eyes, something about them made it easy for Clark to tell them apart. One looked like he radiated positivity and sunshine, an active go-getter no doubt. One looked a lot more serious, almost solemn even. It looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. And he also looked angry about it. The last one looked like he was used to being pushed to the sidelines. Perhaps a child that neither excelled nor got into much trouble. And yet he seemed content with this.

 

All of this Clark could determine because there were just that many pictures of them.

 

He frowned when he noted a picture of a beautiful woman with dark hair and catlike eyes. There were a couple of pictures of her. One even had Bruce with her. She was pressing her lips against his ear while Bruce gave her a soft, small smile. The sight of the picture made Clark almost want to shoot lasers into it.

 

His anger diminished when he saw the last picture. It was the same picture that had been going viral, the one where Clark and Bruce had their first kiss. Clark reached over to touch the glass. He seriously framed this? Any embarrassment Clark would’ve normally felt was overshadowed by the feeling of pride.

 

“Why did you show me this place?”

 

“I think you’re the best person that Master Bruce has ever been with. Everyone’s either getting him into trouble or worse. Someone as sensible as you is just the thing he needs in a partner.”

 

Clark frowned, feeling guilty, “Are you sure? My track record for keeping him out of trouble isn’t exactly---”

 

“What happened with the Joker wasn’t your fault.”

 

Well he supposed that was true. Still, Clark felt that all of Alfred’s praises were unearned. He glanced back at the family portraits, happy to see a side of Bruce he’d never seen before.

 

 

 

Somewhere between sleep and wake, Clark recognized the feeling of lips pressed against his temple. They had the same effect on him as before. The pleasure surging through his body was so intense that his eyes snapped open and they set their sights on Bruce. Said man was smiling down on him, wearing a loose tank top and briefs.

 

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.”

 

After talking to Alfred for some time last night, Clark decided to sleep in the guestroom the butler showed him to. Of course, he could go his whole life without sleeping. But Clark had gotten into the habit in order to keep up appearances.

 

He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

 

“What time is it?”

 

“It’s noon.”

 

“Noon!” Clark grabbed his phone and looked at it. Sure enough, 12:02 stared back at him. He was appalled with himself. His mother would’ve slapped him for sleeping the morning away. No farm boy, not even one from a progressive farm, should be doing that. Bruce’s lifestyle must be turning him into a night owl.

 

His extreme reaction caused Bruce to crack up laughing, “I guess you’re picking up my bad habits. But that’s alright. Being a night owl’s much more fun.”

 

“When did you get back?”

 

“6 am.”

 

“What a coincidence. That’s when I went to bed.”

 

“Shoot. Then we just missed each other. Let me make it up to you,” one of Bruce’s dazzling smiles made an appearance. Clark smirked when he thought about the same grin on Batman’s face. What a funny image!

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

“Nothing,” Clark got out of bed, “Hold on. I gotta check up on my boss. He wants another article on Project Arkham.”

 

Bruce’s smile faltered, “Oh?”

 

Clark tried to ignore the sting in his voice. He knew he couldn’t let Bruce give up on this. After Alfred showed him the real Bruce room, Clark was determined to do something nice for the dark knight. And he wanted it to be him as Clark Kent, not as Superman.

 

While Clark was typing up a text, another one popped up. He didn’t recognize the number and the contents of the message chilled the blood in his veins.

 

“You took my man away from me, Kent.”

 

His first thought was the Joker. But then he realized that there were a couple of things wrong with that theory. Joker was still in captivity, or he should be any way. The other thing was Joker was infatuated with Batman, not Bruce.

 

Unless Joker had found out…..Did he escape prison? Or was Clark reading too much into it?

 

“What’s wrong?” Bruce frowned.

 

Clark pushed his phone back in his pocket before the other man could see.

 

“Sorry, Bruce. I just realize it’s my turn to be somewhere. I’ll call you a little later today.”

 

Giving him a quick kiss, Clark changed and hightailed it out of the building. He had to be sure. Even if the theory was a stretch, Clark wouldn’t rest until he proved it false. He couldn’t take a chance when it came to the Joker.

 

He grabbed an Uber to Gotham City HQ, shocked to see how crowded it was at this time of day. People were complaining to the disgruntled officers about all manners of things: thefts, scams, there was even a missing person apparently. Crime really didn’t take a break here.

 

A tap on his shoulder caused Clark to turn around. He realized he was staring face-to-face with Gordon, the head commissioner. Everyone knew about his friendship with Batman, making Clark astounded that he hadn’t been used as leverage more often. Maybe not even Gotham City’s villains wanted to deal with him as a hostage. Gordon certainly look like the type of man who could take care of himself.

 

“Hey. Aren’t you Clark Kent? Wayne’s new boyfriend?”

 

 _And reporter on Superman._ Clark was a little miffed that being Bruce’s lover overshadowed that fact in people’s eyes. Didn’t the know Clark Kent was his own man?

 

“That’s me. Clark Kent from the Daily Planet,” they shook hands, “Actually, I’m here because of Bruce. I wanted to make sure….he was still locked up? I know it’s only been a day but.”

 

Clark swore he saw guilt flashed across Gordon’s face. But it left as quickly as it came. Gordon sighed and shook his head.

 

“We had to carry him off to Arkham as an ice sculpture. Batman showed up ready to kick ass. I think he was upset that Superman showed up trying to out stage him. You’re a lucky man, Kent. You got two heroes looking out for Wayne.”

 

Batman…had been upset? But what about Bruce being friendly to him?

 

Either Bruce had been acting, or there really was a double personality inside the dark knight. And if there really was another personality….

 

Then maybe that personality could convince the other one that Superman was good?

 

“So he’s in Arkham?”

 

“As far as I know.”

 

Gordon’s assurances didn’t sound all that promising. Clark had a feeling that he was hiding something.

 

Gordon suddenly looked shock. He was staring past Clark and at the window above him. Confused, Clark followed his gaze, showing his own amount of surprise. Batman’s head stared back at them. He somehow managed to hold himself upside down as if he were an actual bat. After a few seconds, he vanished.

 

Clark knew he must’ve been heading for the roof. He darted past Gordon, ignoring the older man’s cries for him to come back. Even while running only as fast as humanly possible, Clark got to the roof in record time. He faked panting and looked around him. Where did he--?

 

“Looking for me?”

 

 _Holy shit!_ Clark nearly jumped when Batman appeared behind him. How did he keep sneaking up on him like that? His super senses were nothing compared to Batman’s stealth.

 

“Oh!” he exclaimed.

 

Batman looked coolly at him, “I saw you talking to Jim about the Joker.”

 

“Is that a problem?”

 

“I know you’re worried about Bruce Wayne. But a civilian like you needs to stay far away from the Joker.”

 

 _He was one to talk_ , thought Clark sarcastically. Sure, Batman was a literal crime fighting machine, but that didn’t null the fact that he was technically a ‘civilian’ too. And even though Clark found it sweet that he was trying to protect him, Clark was too worried to let this slide. The text had been a threat. There was no other way to interpret it. And who knew what the sender would be willing to do to him or Bruce in a fit of jealousy?

 

“Believe it or not, Batman. I can take care of myself.”

 

A strange look crossed the dark knight’s eyes, “I can imagine that easily, Mr. Kent. But the Joker is a dangerous person. Even me, or Superman, are risking our lives whenever we deal with him.”

 

It was the first time Clark had ever seen anything akin to weakness from Batman’s character. And Batman just…admitted it so easily. Clark felt touched. It was such a lovely feeling to have Batman actually be nice to him for once.

 

“And Bruce would be sad to see you hurt.”

 

“You know him personally then?” Clark asked, pushing his luck.

 

“I know him well enough,” Batman said with all seriousness. It wasn’t the answer Clark had been expecting. He had thought Batman would deny it, instead he confirmed what he said. It wasn’t a straight up confession, but it was almost close.

 

Certainly, closer than what Clark was willing to give him.

 

Clark pushed the guilt away from his chest. He would tell Batman soon, but only after his opinion on Superman changed.

 

“Then join up with Superman and make sure Bruce stays alive,” Clark pleaded.

 

Batman tensed at that. Even underneath his dark cloak, Superman could see how tight his shoulders became.

 

“Superman is not to be trusted.”

 

“I disagree. He’s saved Metropolis plenty of times. He can help you, Batman. And you can help him.”

 

“Mr. Kent,” when Batman’s eyes narrowed, Clark knew he was getting nowhere with him, “As long as I’m around, no harm will come to Wayne,” he approached closer, until he was mere inches away from the reporter. Clark resisted the urge to hold his breath. How could a normal human being look so powerful to him? “But I will not trust Superman because he is simply too strong. And although he has yet to kill anyone, he has proven that he tends to act before thinking. I don’t want you getting hurt because of the clumsiness of an oaf.”

 

Clark didn’t know whether to be insulted or touched that Batman cared so much. He gazed at the ground beneath his feet.

 

“Okay. Please make sure the Joker stays away from Bruce, Mr. Batman.”

 

Batman’s lips twisted, looking almost like a smile. Or Clark was just imagining things.

 

“Thank you, Clark.”

 

Then, all of the sudden, Batman’s lips met his. Clark was too stunned to protest. The kiss only lasted for half a second, before Batman turned around and glided off the building, leaving a stunned reporter behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

Stuffing his hands inside his pockets, Clark looked at the ground. He walked aimlessly down an abandoned street that was full of closed businesses once filled with dreams and ambitions. Going to such a remote area wasn’t a good idea when you were in Gotham, but Clark needed to hide from those annoying reporters while he cleared his head. After all, no goon on earth was a threat to him, unless they started carrying kryptonite with their concealed weapons.

 

Try as he might, he couldn’t tear his mind away from Batman’s kiss. Somehow it had been different from the kind that Bruce Wayne gave. It had felt more genuine and dangerous, like a wild animal yearning to eat him alive. The experience had left the alien wanting more. Clark’s lips still tickled.

 

But why had the Dark Knight done it? Was he unable to control himself, like when Superman tried to kiss Bruce Wayne? Or had it been a test? After Clark had admitted his crush on Batman during dinner, the explanation sounded plausible. Now he regretted not feigning anger after Batman's kiss, because maybe that had been what the Dark Knight wanted. Instead all Clark had done was stare at Batman like a damn idiot, until the hero left him alone to his bewildered thoughts.

 

Suddenly, Clark's super senses picked up something behind him.  He didn’t have to turn around to know that someone was following him. Their footsteps were light in a clear attempt not to be noticed. Someone sneaking up on him in an abandoned alley? That wasn’t good.

 

Clark had to play his cards right. The person probably wanted to mug him for some fast cash. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had assumed him an easy target.

 

Clark turned the corner and hid. The hooded figure held a knife, clearly intent of using it, but also clearly inexperienced. Clark dove at them from behind. He wrapped his arms around their torso, trapping them in his grasp. Then he pulled off the hood.

 

And he nearly fell to the ground.

 

In front of him stood none other than Sofia Romas. She had a crazed look in her eyes. Thankfully though, the crazy was slowly leaving, and in its place was anger.

 

“You brute!”

 

“Miss Romas? I don’t understand,” Clark was impressed that he could still talk after his initial shock.

 

The billionaire did her best to act as coolly as possible. She dropped the knife and it landed with a hard thud.

 

“I was trying to scare you.”

 

“Clearly.”

 

“Don’t act smug with me, young man,” she snapped, and then added sadly, “My plan was very simple. After you read the text, I would pretend to attack you. Then I would demand you leave Bruce alone.”

 

The text….The. Text.  Just like that the puzzle pieces fell into place, but that didn’t make it any easier to believe what was happening. Sofia was supposed to be a well-respected woman. How did her crush carry her over this far?

 

Clark realized that woman in his hands was now a trembling mess. He loosened his grip.

 

“You couldn’t have hired someone else to do this? Or talk to me?” not that the former was ideal, but it would’ve been better than this. Clark had seen many strange things in his lifetime. But an aging billionaire trying to attack him gangster style was up there.

 

“I wanted to be the one to scare you off! Not hire someone else to do it. You took my man,” there it was. The crazy was back again.

 

Clark took his time trying to recover from his whole reality being shattered. He decided on his next course of action.

 

“What are you doing?” Sofia demanded when Clark pulled out his cell phone.

 

“I’m calling 911.”

 

“Trying to turn me in, are you?”

 

“I’m trying to get you help,” he insisted, patiently, “You have to realize how nuts you look right now.”

 

“How dare you?”

 

“You were just trying to attack me!”

 

“Pretending to attack you. There’s a difference. And go ahead and call the police. I’ll use all my money and power to make it look like you’re the culprit,” holy crap! She really was insane. Clark couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

 

He looked up from his phone to inspect her disguise. Now that he got a better look, he could see the sash that was both dark and elegant, perfect for hiding in the shadows, as well as looking classy. The fabric was sleek, almost shiny. It was certainly nothing regular goons could get their hands on.

 

Suddenly curious, Clark asked, “Where did you even get that get-up?”

 

Sofia looked down at her clothing, as if only just now noticing it. Her lips curled up into a tight, lopsided smile.

 

“I made it myself.”

 

“You…did?”

 

“Don’t you know about my company? It’s only one of the most renowned clothing lines in the country. All my money comes from our wares. I have a passion for clothes, you see. And as you should know, so does everyone else.”

 

Now Clark remembered. He had seen commercials like that in Metropolis. An idea started to sprout in his mind. Like a seedling, it was more the beginning of one, rather than a full flowering thought. But Clark decided to make sure this interaction with Sofia didn’t go to waste.

 

He placed the phone back in his pocket.

 

 “I know how you can make Bruce see you the way you see him.”

 

He spoke with such conviction that Sofia had no choice but to turn to him. She searched for any signs of manipulation on his face. Her eyes grew cold.

 

“What did you have in mind?”

 

Clark held her gaze, “I know a better way to help with Project Arkham than giving money. Trust me. If you help him achieve this, he’ll adore you.”

 

“Or you,” she spat, “How do I know you won’t try and take the credit?”

 

Although she was insane, it was a reasonable query. Clark could see the business woman inside of her: distrusting, cynical, but still open to strike a deal.

 

“Believe me, Miss Romas. This is something only you can do. He won’t give credit to anyone else.”

 

But her voice remained as icy as ever, “So what’s in it for you?”

 

Clark paused. He realized that not thinking this through had been a mistake. If she had been willing to pull a knife on him, there was no way she was going to trust him unless she had reason to believe he got something out of it.

 

He already got her this far. He couldn’t afford to pull out now. Her eyes flashed in realization.

 

"You must want money."

 

That would be an easy lie to handle. If Clark could make her think there was monetary gain in it for him, then she'd be more likely to agree. He smiled sheepishly

 

"Yes. I want ten percent of your earnings for the next year."

 

She frowned.

 

"Erm...five percent?"

 

"You're new to this, aren't you?" she asked. Clark said nothing. Suddenly, the woman appeared much more at ease. Perhaps the feeling of being in power brought her back to her calmer self. "I'll tell you what. I'll give you $5000. One-time payment."

 

"Deal," Clark said quickly in hopes to get through this before she changed her mind. Big mistake. She glanced at him in suspicion.

 

"But I'll only agree to this if you break up with him after Project Arkham is funded."

 

Clark felt cold. It was true that from the start he had been planning on breaking up with Wayne eventually. But now that he was being forced to, he didn't like the idea so much...

 

And maybe it was also because he no longer wanted to.

 

"Well? What's it going to be?" she sounded impatient. Clark was determined to make this deal fall through. It could be exactly what Bruce needed to get his wish for Arkham in Metropolis. And if Batman wanted it, then Clark knew the reason was for the good of the people. He couldn't argue with that.

 

"Fine," he spat out more harshly than he intended.

 

 

"So, what's the surprise this time?" Bruce looked up from his americano. He drank his coffee as black as his nightly armor.

 

The two men sat just outside the cafe, under the hood of a large parasol hovering over their table. They had gone to a normal coffee place this time, Clark's orders. Clark's latte had a pack of sugar in it, reminding the alien of when Bruce pointed out his sweet tooth.

 

They were surrounded by numerous buildings made almost fifty percent of glass. Billboards stood nearby, advertising their wares to the crowd of people walking down the street.

 

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise."

 

For the first time, Bruce was the one getting annoyed. He rubbed his temples, "Clark. I love you. But I don't have all the time in the world. My break will be over soon."

 

"Don't worry. I'm keeping track. You'll find out before you have to leave, I promise."

 

Bruce offered a smile at that. All trace of earlier impatience vanished as he returned back to his usual flirty mood. His eyes looked at Clark's neck as if it was a delicious meal. No doubt he wanted to give him another hickey. The eyes then trailed to the sweet cup of joe in his hands.

 

"Well since you're nice enough to give me a surprise. I guess it's only fair that I pay."

 

"No deal. I need to pay foot the bill sometimes, Bruce."

 

"You paid last time. Remember?"

 

"I remember the Joker and Superman wrecking the place. No one paid that evening after everything happened," Clark tried to keep the guilt he felt out of his voice. He really needed to make it up to that establishment for costing them so much money, "I still need to get a chance to do something for you."

 

Bruce smirked. He was practically licking his lips and it wasn't from the coffee.

 

"I know plenty of other ways you can do that."

 

Clark really wished he would stop saying things like that in public. Someone was going to overhear them one day! He sent a harsh look, while Bruce stared longingly at him.

 

"We're not arguing about this, Bruce."

 

"You're right. We're not," Bruce somehow sounded flirty and firm at the same time. Clark would've been impressed if he hadn't been aggravated with the man's stubbornness.

 

Clark opened his mouth to go on a five-minute rant about Bruce's behavior, when the billboard above them showed SR Incorporated. The argument would have to be postponed. Lighting up, Clark motioned for Bruce to watch. Confused, Bruce turned his head around to obey.

 

The commercial started with an array of suits and dresses sliding down a line. One particular suit zoomed closer to the screen. It was a green slim fit with question marks all around it. Bruce turned back to Clark in shock, then looked back at the screen, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

The commercial had no voice. It simply showed a few style of clothing that were obviously inspired by the Arkhamites without being completely like a cosplay. After it ended, the logo ended with 10% of profit goes to Project Arkham. Support Project Arkham. And then it gave a link.

 

Other people saw and their faces showed clear interest. A few had the courage to look at Bruce and smile, no doubt thinking that this was his idea.

 

"How'd you do this without me knowing?" Bruce asked.

 

"Let's just say. I had connections."

 

"You got Alfred to agree to this, didn't you?"

 

Clark cleared his throat. It wasn't an easy task getting this all set up without Bruce's knowledge. The project was his, after all. Had Alfred not had just as much power in managing Project Arkham, it would've been impossible.

 

Bruce leaned over, eyes boring into Clark's own. An unreadable expression set itself on the Dark Knight's handsome face. Clark held his breath in anticipation. Was Bruce upset with him? Or was he still getting over his initial shock? Clark prayed it was the later.

 

Finally, Clark couldn't take the unbearable silence anymore.

 

"Don't you like it?"

 

"I love it," Bruce said softly. His tone was calm. It didn't sound happy per say, but it certainly didn't sound displeased either, "This could really be the boost my project needed. Not the money, but the publicity. People love the Arkham villains."

 

"I remember you saying that," Clark frowned. He almost wished it wasn't true, since he didn't exactly approve of idolizing crooks.

 

Bruce continued, "You really didn’t have to, you know? I told you already. I gave up.”

 

Clark couldn’t tell if he was grateful or if he was chastising him. He heard people around them talking about the commercial, a few with excitement in their voices. He was glad it had sparked the interest he hoped for, but still he wished Bruce would be more open about his feelings right now.

 

Bruce got out of his chair and fished through his back pocket. It only took Clark half a second to realize what he was searching for. Clark stood up as well, giving his lover a look.

 

“I already told you—”

 

“Think of it as a thank you for what you’ve done,” Bruce already had a wad of bills in his hand. He was making his way over to the cashier. Pulling out his own wallet, Clark raced him. They both made it to the register at the same time, each offering the money, while the employee stared in confusion.

 

The lovers had a stare down with each other.

 

“Put it away, Bruce.”

 

“Really, it’s no problem.”

 

“Then let me pay.”

 

“No,” Bruce turned to the teenage girl, who was clearly being paid enough to deal with this, “Take my money and keep the change.”

 

She did so, as he had a fifty and Clark only had a twenty. Clark wanted to yell, but knew it was better not to do that in front of people. Bruce smiled smugly, stuffing his wallet back in his pocket.

 

“Ready to go.”

 

“Lead the way,” Clark grumbled. He followed Bruce down the street, since Alfred was parked a few blocks away. Bruce paid no mind to how quiet Clark was. He whistled a tune to celebrate his victory. Finally, Clark decided to ask, “Are you gonna try to pay for everything?”

 

Bruce thought for a moment, “Well. It’s what everyone else I dated did. Except Selina.” He said the name almost dreamily. Now Clark felt angry for another reason.

 

“Who’s Selina?”

 

Bruce stopped short when he realized what he had said, “Oh. Just an old friend.”

 

Clark remembered the woman in the photo. Bruce had looked so genuinely happy with her that she had to have meant something really special to him. Clark wasn’t used to feeling jealous. He normally brushed his insecurities aside in order to make his friends happy.

 

Now, however, Clark felt the need to put himself out there. To remind Bruce that he had chosen him, and that Selina was old news.

 

“If she got to foot the bill every once in a while, then I get to too.”

 

“Ah,” Bruce mocked a pout, “But don’t you like me taking care of you?”

 

“Not if it’s going to be onesided. Look Bruce, I know I’m not made of money. But that doesn’t mean I want you to spend everything on me. I want a boyfriend, not a sugar daddy.”

 

Bruce cracked up laughing. The sound caused Clark to smile himself, all anger dissipating. They arrived at their destination where Alfred was waiting. The old man stepped out of the car, arching an eyebrow at Bruce.

 

Bruce turned to him, “Alfred, how do I convince Clark to let me be his sugar daddy?”

 

“Bruce!” Clark’s face heated up. Thankfully, Alfred didn’t react in any way except for opening the door for them. They got inside, with Clark bashfully thanking the butler a few times.

 

“Where to next?” asked Alfred as he got inside the driver’s seat.

 

“Tyler’s Jewelry Shop.”

 

“What do you want from there?” Clark had a weird suspicion that Bruce was planning on giving him something.

 

“It’s a surprise. But I ordered something from there. I think it’s ready.”

 

Uncertain, Clark watched the road as Alfred put the car into drive.


	11. Chapter 11

They pulled up to a small but well-kept jewelry store. A ‘Tyler’s Jewelry Shop’ sign stood proudly on top of the roof, decorated with faux silver and gold. Clark couldn’t tell what theme it was going for: posh or eccentric. The building itself was clean and elegant, but the bold letters on top didn’t quite match with the rest of it. It was like putting Los Vegas lights on top of someone’s small cabin home. Clark could only stare. Of all the fancy jewelry stores in town, what made this one so special?

 

Bruce unbuckled his seatbelt, “We’ll be just a second, Alfred. Follow me, Clark,” he stepped out of the car and dashed around the vehicle. Bruce open Clark’s door for him, ushering him forward with an award-winning smile. This time Clark didn’t get annoyed with being treated like a lady. He would get onto Bruce later; the mystery of the visit was taking away all his attention at the moment. What did Bruce want to show him?

 

They walked inside together. Clark took in the sight of all the strange objects neatly placed behind a glass counter. Clark couldn’t tell if they were jewelry or not, as the style looked very odd. A man stood behind the counter, flashing a happy smile as soon as he saw Bruce.

 

“Mr. Wayne! Good to see you. Oh, and you must be the owner of the new watch. Nice to meet you,” he grabbed Clark’s hand and shook it.

 

Confused, Clark turned to Bruce, while his arm was still being shaken, “Watch?”

 

“You’ll see, Clark,” Bruce turned to the man. He coughed once and that made the man nearly stand in attention like a soldier, “Is it ready?”

 

“Of course, Mr. Wayne!”

 

There was a long awkward pause, then the man’s eyes flash in dopey realization.

 

“Oh, right! I’ll fetch it for you!”

 

Rushing to the back, it only took Tyler a few seconds to return. He cradled a box in his hands as if it was a cherished newborn, then he handed it to Clark. Since he had been so careful with it, Clark opened the box as slowly and gently as he could.

 

A beautiful watch stared back at him. It was encrusted with white diamonds, rubies and blue sapphires. Yet despite the added gemstones, the watch had a masculine beauty to it. The golden hands accurately showed off the time. Clark noticed that the back of the watch had his very own name encrusted on it.

 

He was struck dumb. How much money did Bruce spend on this?

 

“Do you like it?” Bruce asked hesitantly.

 

“It’s wonderful!” Clark exclaimed, “But there was no reason for you to go through all the trouble.”

 

“To be fair, Clark. I think we’ve both been doing a lot to prove our love for each other.”

 

Clark instinctively frowned. He remembered his terrible promise to Sofia and soon his heart was being hammered down by dread. Seeing Bruce’s gift made him realize how serious Bruce was about their relationship. He could never let Bruce know of the promise. It would destroy him. Batman might be fine, but Bruce….

 

Bruce was different. Bruce needed protection.

 

Clark barely registered Bruce and Tyler talking. He was too lost in his own world, worried about the future. The watch suddenly felt very heavy on his wrist.

 

A few moments later, they were walking outside where Alfred stood waiting. Clark felt his eyes lingering on Bruce, loving the way he smiled so warmly at him. And yet….he felt so numb at the same time.

 

“You alright?” Bruce asked after a beat, “I’m..sorry if the gift is too much too soon.”

 

Clark noticed Alfred watching from the corner of his eye. Alfred’s lip quirked a bit as if he wanted to say something, but then decided at the last minute to keep his mouth shut.

 

Clark offered Bruce his biggest smile.

 

“The gift is amazing. I never want to take it off.”

 

Bruce smiled back, “Then don’t. Think of it as a representation of our relationship.”

 

“Will do,” Clark agreed and leaned in to kiss Bruce’s lips. Bruce immediately deepened the kiss, his arms reaching around Clark’s shoulders. Bruce pressed their bodies so close together that it was crushing. But Clark didn’t mind this at all. They were interrupted by the alarm on Bruce’s phone. Bruce reluctantly pulled away from the embrace, checked his phone and sighed.

 

“I gotta go back to work. They’re probably wondering why I’m not back from my break yet,” he smirked to himself. There was a mischievously glint in his eye. For a moment, Clark wondered if he was going to ignore the alert and suggest they spend even more time together.

 

“I hope they’re not upset.”

 

Bruce seemed amused, “It wouldn’t be the first time I pissed somebody off. Believe me. The worst they can do is shoot me dirty looks. Let Alfred take you back to my place. I’m sure reporters are going to want your opinion on the whole Project Arkham deal, now that you helped revive it.”

 

“What about you?” Clark could very easily dodge the reporters with his super speed. Bruce, however, would need a vehicle to get back to work.

 

“I’ll take an Uber. Thank you again, for everything. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

Bruce gave him another peck on the lips, but this time Clark didn’t return it. The guilt stung at his chest. Despite this, he kept up a happy face until Bruce was out of sight. Only when Bruce was gone did he allow his true feeling to slip through the cracks.

 

“Is something bothering you, Mr. Kent?” Alfred’s voice came from behind.

 

“Oh,” Clark almost forgot about him. He forced another smile, “It’s nothing.”

 

“To the manor, then?”

 

“I wouldn’t want to impose. You can just drop me off at the hotel.”

 

Alfred held the door open for him, “Wayne Manor it is, then.”

 

Clark had better sense then to argue. A few moments later, he was riding the back seat, suddenly realizing how spacious it was without Bruce beside him. It felt empty. Alfred stared at Clark through the rearview mirror, causing Clark to squirm uncomfortably. Alfred had a kind of face that made a person wonder if he knew all of their secrets. If he could read minds or peer into a person’s soul. Although Clark knew it was a silly notion, he couldn’t help but feel as if Alfred knew more than he was letting on.

 

“Mr. Kent. Forgive me for being so forward, but I noticed you weren’t as receptive to Master Bruce’s advances as you usually are.”

 

“What?” Clark felt his jaw drop.

 

“When you kissed, you seemed distant. I could tell a lot was on your mind. Is there something bothering you?”

 

Unsure of what to say, Clark stared at the window in silence. Alfred allowed a few seconds to pass, before speaking again.

 

“If,” he paused a moment, “If you’re ever having second thoughts about your relationship with him, I implore you to let me know immediately.”

 

His voice was soft but firm, like an authority figure whispering orders into Clark’s ear. It certainly wasn’t a request. Clark turned to look at him, but Alfred’s eyes remained dutifully on the road.

 

“Why would you think that?”

 

Did he give away something on his face? Had Alfred somehow found out about the deal? Alfred was being uncharacteristically somber around him, as if he knew Clark planned on breaking Bruce’s heart. It made the guilt in his stomach feel ten times worse.

 

Alfred responded with, “I meant what I said about you. You don’t know it, but you truly are the best thing for Bruce. I’ve never seen him so carefree in a long time. When he’s around you, the innocent boy I used to know comes out for a little while.”

 

Innocent boy? Was Alfred suggesting that Clark’s presence was the reason Bruce acted so differently from Batman?

 

That couldn’t be right. There was no way Clark could be that special to Bruce. His eyes happened to land on the watch and then he realized he had just been stood corrected. He wanted to throw up. How was he going to explain to Bruce about……

 

“So,” Alfred yanked him away from his thoughts, “I’m begging you. Either be honest and serious with Bruce. Or leave as soon as you can. I know you’re having second thoughts, Mr. Kent. I can see it in your eyes. Don’t give Bruce false hope.”

 

“I care about him, Alred,” Clark insisted, sounding more remorseful than he intended. Even now, he was debating whether or not to tell him. Maybe Alfred deserved to know? Maybe he could even give Clark advice?

 

Or maybe he would be disgusted with Clark for making the deal in the first place.

 

Alfred softened, “Please tell me what’s on your mind.”

 

He thought for a moment, until eventually deciding to confide in him. Alfred had so much faith in him that it seemed wrong to keep this a secret. However, before Clark could respond, the car came to a sudden halt. Clark nearly fell out of his seat. When he recovered, he noticed that was Alfred staring at the blockade in front of them. There was no one else on the street, so the reason for this blockade seemed pointless.

 

Clark happened to glance back out the window. That was when he noticed the Joker in a trench coat, gun in one hand while his free one waved at them. Clark couldn’t believe his eyes. Why couldn’t he ever shake this guy loose? No wonder Batman had so much trouble with him! None of Superman’s criminals were anywhere near this hellbent on hurting others as this clown was. The incident at the restaurant happened just the other day, and already Joker had recovered enough to try again. What did Clark have to do to keep him away?

 

Also, when did he manage to escape? There had been nothing on the news to suggest that he had.

 

Alfred clearly noticed his presence as well, if his fearful look was any indication. The clown motioned for him to roll down the window. Alfred hesitated.

 

“What should we do?” Alfred asked more to himself than to Clark. Clark answered anyway, keeping his voice calm.

 

“Do what he wants. At least until the cops get here.”

 

“As if there’s any guarantee of their arrival,” Alfred remarked helplessly. Nonetheless, he rolled down the widow. Joker’s large smile showed off all every tooth in his mouth, his canines staring Clark in the face.

 

“Jeeves! It’s been a dog’s age since we last seen each other. How’ve you been?”

 

“I was better when I thought you were still safely behind bars.”

 

“You wound me, old friend. Don’t you remember how much fun we had last time we saw each other?”

 

“I remember you pressing a gun to my temple.”

 

“That’s the spirit!” Joker laughed. Alfred clutched at the steering wheel and glared at the crook. Clark leaned in as far as he could in as far as he could, trying to wedge himself between the Joker and Alfred. It was a habit he had developed after countless rescue missions. He liked to make sure his invulnerable body shielded the lives of innocents. Joker caught Clark’s eye and his ruby smile grew wider, “I’d love to catch up, Jeeves, but unfortunately, I need to talk to four-eyes here.”

 

“Me?” Clark frowned. Joker went aside and tried to open the back door next to Clark. His smile fell when he found it still locked. The Joker shot Alfred a look.

 

“Unlock the door, Jeeves.”

 

“Do what he says,” Clark instructed. But this time, Alfred stubbornly refused, his eyes resting on the barrier in front of them. It was clear he was thinking of ramming the barricade. That would be his only option, since a few men in clown masks were blocking them from the rear. But Clark clearly saw the hidden bombs strapped to the road. They would blow up if he tried. Clearly Alfred had considered a possible death trap was in store, for he refrained himself. Clark thanked his lucky stars. Alfred couldn’t see the bombs with his normal vision, but he obviously knew enough about the Joker to remain careful.

 

“Alfred. You have to do what he wants.”

 

“Absolutely not! Master Bruce left you under my care and I will not let harm come to you.”

 

“It’s too late for that.”

 

Alfred had no response to this. The Joker glared at the two, a scowl forming as his demands were ignored. It wouldn’t be much longer before he decided on taking a more aggressive route. Clark was seconds away from begging Alfred. He could stop this sure, but not without revealing his secret powers.

 

If push came to shove, he would save Alfred no matter what. But it had to be a last resort when the Joker was involved.

 

“Alfred, he’ll kill us both if you don’t. But trust me. I’ll be okay.”

 

The old man looked at him. Those soul-peering eyes seemed to stare past him. Finally, after a long silence, Alfred nodded. Joker managed to throw open the door just as he unlocked it. Clark tried to get out himself, but the clown was angry now. Joker grabbed him, forcing him on his feet and a gun pressing against the small of his back.

 

“Took you long enough.”

 

“What do you want with me?” Clark demanded.

 

Joker arched a brow, “For someone so dopey looking, you sure are gutsy. Or maybe you’re just hiding the piss in your pants? Look. It’s simple. You’re going to follow me where we can talk….in private.”

 

“Boss!” a voice rang out. A henchman ran with something in his arms. It took Clark a moment to recognize it was kryptonite. Horror shown on his face as the henchman was coming toward them with it. Joker’s joyous laughs echoed in his ear.

 

“Goody! My new toy has arrived.”

 

The henchman was in front of them now, close enough for Clark to feel his strength zapping away. This stone was bigger than most kryptonite he had ever dealt with. Spots filled Clark’s vision, making him dizzy and woozy. Joker frowned in confusion at Clark’s sudden change in demeanor.

 

“Hey, four-eyes. I know you’re scared but please don’t throw up,” Joker was saying something else, but Clark couldn’t hear the rest. He saw the ground coming toward him. Soon darkness swallowed him up.

 

 

Clark woke up with a pounding head. After a few seconds, he realized that his arms were tied behind his back. The ropes bound him to a metal chair in the middle of what looked to be an old chemical plant. His vision was blurry, and he still felt weak. The kryptonite was still nearby no doubt.

 

Something moved in front of him. The Joker pulled up a chair for himself. He plopped down on it while facing Clark with a smile that was all too close. Clark could smell his breath on his face, making him shudder.

 

Clark felt sick at his stomach. Had Joker puzzled it out? If Clark had fainted right when the kryptonite came around, that could be enough to tip the clown off. Maybe the Joker was smiling because he knew his secret? Maybe he planned on trying to blackmail him?

 

“Look who finally decided to wake up. Heh. I’ll give you credit for not peeing yourself, tough guy. But passing out from fright is not very manly. What would your boyfriend say?”

 

Clark couldn’t believe his luck. Joker’s brain had come up with a good excuse for why he fainted. His secret was still safe.

 

Unfortunately, that was as much luck as he had. The kryptonite had been placed on a table close by. As long as it was there, Clark couldn’t even use x-ray vision, let alone escape.

 

“What do you want with me?” he asked.

 

“Listen. I saw you making gaga eyes at Wayne the other day. Believe me. I know how it feels when the love of your life doesn’t appreciate you.”

 

“What are you talking about? Bruce cares about me.”

 

Joker cackled, “Get real, Kent! He loves you as much as he loves every other lay he gets his hands on. You think you’re so special because you’re different than the others? You’re just the first of many men our little Wayne plans on seducing.”

 

Clark refused to believe that. The only reason Bruce had so many lovers in the past was to keep his identity safe. There was no way….

 

…he paused when a horrifying realization struck him. What if Clark Kent really was just a means to an end? It might be that the only reason Bruce sought him out in the first place was to hide his secret identity.

 

After all, he did it with everyone else. Maybe Alfred had been wrong? Maybe he wasn’t that special to Bruce?

“See? You understand now, don’t you?” Joker feigned a look of concern. It actually looked so genuine that it almost tricked Clark, “Wayne doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?”

 

“Because I need your help.”

 

Clark tensed up, his breath hitching inside his throat. Joker was out of his mind if he thought he was going to help him kill Bruce. Clark struggled in his ropes. However, the kryptonite made him feel as weak as a newborn lamb.

 

Joker frowned when he saw his reaction, “Okay, enough playing nice. Help me or I’ll put a bullet through your brain.”

 

He dug into his trench coat in order to pull out the gun from before. Clark wondered if it was possible to kill him with a normal bullet now that he was so weak. For once in his life, a gun aimed at him was going to be dangerous.

 

Clark thought of every moment of his life that lead up to this moment. His first girlfriend in Smallville, getting a job at the Daily Planet, becoming Superman, meeting Bruce…..

 

“Do it.”

 

Joker arched a brow. It was not the response he had been expecting from Clark. No doubt he thought the first thing Clark would do was plead for his life.

 

Moments passed, then slowly, ever so slowly, Joker put the gun back in his pocket. Suddenly he smiled.

 

“I can see you need a little more convincing. You’re still embarrassed by the whole dizzy spell and now you’re trying extra hard to pretend to be brave. That’s it, isn’t it? Well, how about this, mr. macho man? If you won’t do it to save your own skin, how about Jeeves’?”

 

Clark froze. For some reason, he had assumed Alfred had managed to escape. But now he realized how foolish that notion had been. Why would Joker take only one person hostage and let the other go to get help?

 

“Where is he?” Clark sounded angrier than intended.

 

“Relax. He’ll be fine. As long as you behave.”

 

Clark yearned to punch Joker in the jaw. Alfred had become a good friend while he dated Bruce. He would never let any harm come to him. He wished he could scrounge up enough energy to shoot lasers out of his eyes.

 

Realizing he was losing this battle, Clark asked meekly, “What do you want me to do?”

 

The Joker dug in his pocket again, only this time, he pulled out a necklace. The emblem on it was of the famous Batman symbol. Clark tried to use his x-ray vision on it, but he only made his headache worse. The kryptonite might kill him if he stays this close for much longer.

 

“So I hear there’s another charity drive for Project Arkham coming up. It’s going to be at the Ringstar Headquarters, if I remember correctly? Anyway, it will be fun. Dinner, dancing, broadcasting the whole soiree live. And the main even will be a grand speech from Bruce Wayne himself. I want you to give this to him just before he does. Tell him it’s a good luck charm.”

 

Clark dreaded to think what kind of death trap that necklace really was.

 

“And if I refuse?”

 

“Then poor Jeeves is going to be heart-broken. I’ll personally rip it out to break it myself.”

 

Clark felt himself growing weaker. He was about to faint again.

 

“Do we have a deal?” Joker asked. The look on his face told Clark he wasn’t joking.

 

“Y-yes….” Clark knew he had to think of a way out of this soon. Darkness consumed him once more.


	12. Chapter 12

The top floor of LexCorp housed a tidy office, where the owner typed away at his computer. Superman hovered just outside the building, looking down at the same man who had caused him so many problems before. Since Lex had his back to him, the criminal mastermind had yet to notice his presence. He continued to be engrossed in whatever he was doing, pressing the keys with all the elegance of a pianist performing for a large audience.

 

Finally, Superman spoke up, “Debating on which loyal employee to fire?”

 

The reaction was priceless. Lex nearly fell out of his chair as he spun around to face him. Once he was over his initial shock, Lex straightened himself out in an attempt to look cool. To his credit, he was succeeding, despite the initial display of surprise.

 

“Strange to see you in Metropolis. There’ve been rumors that you moved to Gotham.”

 

The remark stung. Sure, Clark may have been spending the last few weeks protecting Bruce, but that didn’t mean anything had to be different. He had been flying from one place to another. However, even with his super speed and stamina, it was almost too much to handle. But still, he knew that Metropolis was his responsibility, so it was a task he took upon himself proudly. Superman didn’t like how Lex insinuated otherwise.

 

“I’m still protecting this town. Funny you should mention Gotham, though. I wanted to talk to you about the Joker.”

 

Lex Luthor quirked an eyebrow at that. Superman wasn’t fooled by the false confusion on Lex’s face. There was no way Joker could have escaped from police custody so quickly without help. Maybe even Gordon knew about it, but Lex had threatened his family to keep him quiet. Superman wouldn’t put it past the man, and it would certainly explain Gordon’s strange behavior.

 

The devious billionaire furrowed a dark brow. He gave Superman a condescending look, one that he probably used on many other people in the past.

 

“And what makes you think I know anything about that lunatic? Contrary to what you may believe, Superman, I don’t associate with his kind.”

 

“He mentioned you at Wayne’s fundraiser.”

 

Technically, he mentioned it to Clark. But if he was questioned, Superman would make up a story about how Clark came to him with information about Jack Napier.

 

Lex shrugged his shoulders, “Not to sound arrogant, but plenty of people have heard of me. Is it really that surprising that he knows who I am?”

 

“The way he talked about you, you two sound close,” Superman studied every micro-expression on Lex Luthor’s face, “He said you were best friends.”

 

Lex seemed both aggravated and possibly nervous. But such expressions only lasted a second before his calm demeanor returned. The emotional shift was so sudden that no normal human would've noticed it.

 

"He's a maniac. I'm sure he's said lots of crazy things."

 

Superman glared. He must've unintentionally made his eyes glowed red, for Lex ducked like he was expecting him to shoot his lasers. The man grabbed the handle of a drawer in his desk, which Superman knew contained kryptonite. Superman was a good enough distance away but getting any closer would be pushing it. They were at a stalemate.

 

The hero was getting impatient. Every second of his time that Lex Luthor wasted was another second that Alfred remained in danger. The Joker might’ve even received his kryptonite from Lex as well. Lex had been a thorn in his side for much too long, and this was the final straw.

 

“The Joker has been repeatedly a problem for me. Mark my words, Luthor. If I find out you're helping him, you will wish you had been honest with me from the start."

 

Like a jet, he zipped out of sight before Lex Luthor could respond. It was good for him to keep his distance or he might’ve actually tried to fight the information out of him, even with the kryptonite. It would’ve been too reckless and would help nothing. His mission failed, Superman flew back to Gotham.

 

 

 

Clark frowned at his lover. He was now in the passenger’s side of one of Bruce’s many vehicles, while Bruce himself took the wheel. He had to, now that his favorite chauffeur was gone. Bruce had been brooding since finding ‘Alfred’s’ letter saying that he had to go on an emergency vacation. No longer did Bruce crack a smile, joke around or make silly innuendos. It was obvious that he knew Alfred was in trouble and it was killing him not to know what was going on.

 

The reporter took in a deep breath. He couldn’t stall any longer. He had been debating whether or not to just tell him. But now he knew that it was unfair to leave Bruce in the dark for this long. Clark was getting no closer to finding Alfred and he needed all the help he could get.

 

“Bruce.”

 

The other man didn’t seem to hear him. Clark brought him out of his stupor with one word.

 

“Batman.”

 

Like that, Bruce snapped his head in Clark’s direction. It didn’t look like he was surprise. Clark wondered at this. Had Bruce known that he had known? The only way he could know that was if he knew who Clark really was.

 

Clark pressed on, still determined to come clean. Now more than ever they needed to work together.

 

…And if Bruce still didn’t trust him after this….Clark would prepare himself for that possibility too.

 

“I know what happened to Alfred.”

 

“I gathered,” Bruce said, sounding more like Batman than ever. He was bitter and cold toward him, nothing like how his other self had once behaved. Alfred’s words rang in his ear.

 

_“I’ve never seen him so carefree in a long time. When he’s around you, the innocent boy I used to know comes out for a little while.”_

Now Clark knew what he had meant. That innocent boy was no longer around, thanks to the Joker. Clark had a bad feeling that he would never get to see that side of Bruce ever again.

 

But it couldn’t be helped.

 

“What do you know?” Clark asked. It was the wrong question.

 

Bruce narrowed his eyes and hissed, “I figured you were about to tell me something important. I guess not.”

 

He was never this cruel to Clark. Only to Superman. Clark swallowed.

 

“The truth is—”

 

“Clark don’t.”

 

“—I’m really Super—” he was cut off by Bruce making a sharp turn, the wheels screeching their displeasure at being abused. They were at a parking lot with no one else around. Bruce got out of the car in a flash. Clark had to struggle to catch up, as he followed the other man to the elevator. Clark debated whether to use his super speed just to talk to Bruce…

 

But it was all clear to him now. Bruce knew who he was. He probably did this whole time.

 

Bruce already knew he was Superman.

 

A torrent of emotions flooded Clark after this realization. First betrayal, but that emotion only lasted a good 60 seconds. After all, Clark had been keeping similar secrets from Bruce, or at least he thought he had been.

 

Another thing that was apparent was the fact that Bruce didn’t _want_ to know. Was he really so disgusted with Superman that he couldn’t bear to be around him, much less be his boyfriend? Clark couldn’t suppress the aching in his chest.

 

Bruce knew and he wanted to keep pretending that he didn’t. Clark, realizing that Bruce was hurting enough already, decided to honor his unspoken wishes. For now. But eventually, he would take Bruce aside and demand to know how the Dark Knight had found out his real identity.

 

The trip to the top floor was tense to say the least. Bruce wouldn’t look at him, much less talk to him. Clark was shocked when he suddenly hooked his arm with his own, much like a lover would. Was he in a better mood already?

 

The elevator doors opened. The first thing they saw was Sofia Romas sitting at a tea table, a large parasol hovering above it like what you would see in a Victorian themed painting. She spotted the men as soon as they got off the elevator. Clark realized that Bruce was holding his arm simply for show and not out of any affection for him. Perhaps the only thing he felt for Clark now was disgust.

 

'Of course he does', an evil thought rang in his head. 'He knows you’re Superman. He also knows you let Alfred get taken. How could he not hate you?'

 

Sofia jumped out of her seat. She smiled and outstretched her arms as if she was about to hug them. The happy look was reserved for Bruce. She didn’t even glance in Clark’s direction.

 

“Oh, Mr. Wayne! Mr. Kent. So glad you could make it,” she grabbed Bruce’s free arm, “I have the cutest outfits for you to wear. You’ll look marvelous this evening.”

 

Bruce chuckled, “But Miss Romas. We’re already dressed.”

 

“Nonsense! We're promoting my new line of clothes to help you with your project, aren’t we? It makes the most sense for you two to wear them."

 

Bruce laughed it off naturally.

 

"I trust your judgment. Clark, are you okay with this?"

 

Clark offered a smile in hopes that his acting was half as convincing as Bruce’s.

 

"Of course, Bruce. Anything to help."

 

Sofia tugged on Bruce until he relented. The man unhooked his arm from Clark’s, then allowed Sofia to lead him away. A male servant appeared before Clark.

 

“If you’ll follow me, Mr. Kent. I’ll take you to a spare changing room.”

 

Clark nodded. He tried not to notice how the servant was leading him in the opposite direction of where Bruce went. They made their way into a secluded changing room. It was large enough to be a living room.

 

On the wall hung a single outfit that was probably meant for Clark. Clark’s eyes went wide as he tried not to growl like an angry dog.

 

“No way! She chose that on purpose!”

 

"She believes purple is your color. You should trust Miss Sofia on these matters."

 

Clark was already feeling bad enough. This was almost the straw that broke the camel's back.

 

"She wants me to dress up as the man trying to kill my boyfriend!"

 

"Mr. Wayne will also be dressed as a notorious criminal," the man seemed very defensive, as if Clark was insulting him personally, "and besides, you won't be dressed exactly like the Joker. She merely took inspiration from his look. She doesn't copy."

 

Looking at the clothes again, Clark knew he could at least grant him that. It still had the colors of orange, green and purple, but she had altered the design to look less like an evil clown and more like an eccentric business suit. There was no gag flower pinned to the chest, the purple tie had been replaced with a basic black one, and the colors themselves weren’t as flamboyant as the original.

 

Clark looked at the servant. From the way the man stared at him, Clark knew that arguing any further would be pointless. With a sigh, he grabbed the suit off its hinges. He had other things to worry about tonight anyway.

 

 

Hours later, the main lobby was filled with people, all dressed in the new Arkhamite themed clothesline. Seeing at least four other Jokers brought Clark a sense of ease. At least he wasn’t the only one dressed like scum. Still, he wondered how Bruce would handle him dressed as his worst enemy.

 

Clark hadn’t seen him since they separated to get dressed. He walked around the room in search of him. He had a pretty good feeling that Bruce was purposely avoiding him. Clark needed a lot of questions answered. He needed to know if Bruce had known his secret all along.

 

And he also needed to know if the Joker had been right: if Bruce had just been toying with him. Were all those innuendos and smiles nothing but an act? If so, then Clark felt very foolish that he had ever developed feelings for him. And yet, there was a part of him that clung onto hope. Maybe Bruce did care about him? Maybe he had found out his identity later and was feeling conflicted right now?

 

‘All you can think about is yourself,’ the evil thought came back, ‘Alfred is still in danger and you’re here worried about your relationship.’

 

While Clark was deep in thought, a figure strode in front of him, blocking his path. It was Lex Luthor. Clark could hardly believe his eyes.

 

“Ah! Mr. Kent. I was hoping to run into you.”

 

“Mr. Luthor,” Clark greeted. He was too defensive to be all that friendly. Lex, however, didn’t notice his standoffish behavior. He pulled out something from his coat pocket.

 

“I believe this belongs to you.”

 

He handed Clark his recorder that he had lost many days ago. Clark was taken aback. He had given up ever finding this again, thinking he had dropped it during his plane ride to Gotham.

 

“Where did you find this?” Clark couldn’t keep the accusation out of his voice.

 

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to say thank-you?”

 

Clark forced himself to look remorseful. There was no reason that mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent should accuse Lex Luthor of anything.

 

"Sorry. I thought someone had stolen it."

 

Lex burst out into a hearty laugh.

 

"If this is truly the most valuable item you have, Mr. Kent, then it's a good thing you now have Wayne to spoil you with gifts," he leaned in with a sneer, "I heard you had a gift for him too."

 

Clark allowed his anger to shine through once more. Now the reporter did have a reason.

 

"How did you know about that?" he demanded in a low voice. The only people who should know about that were Joker and him. And Bruce would learn it too, when the time came.

 

"I know a lot about you."

 

"Not everything," Clark knew he was pushing it, but his rage was clouding his judgment. He had known that Lex had been lying when he visited him. But still, hearing the truth from the man made him upset. He wanted to grab him and throw him straight into the moon.

 

Lex gave him a knowing look. He whispered all-too-smugly, “I’m here to make sure you do as you’re told. The clown can’t sneak in like he did before. So he asked me to do him….a favor.”

 

There it was. Official proof that Lex and Joker were in cahoots. But as evil as Lex was, teaming up with Joker was a step too far, even for him. What had made him go down this path?

 

Clark stared at the man in disgust. Lex’s eyes narrowed.

 

“You better still have the gift, if you want the old man to stay alive.”

 

Without saying anything, Clark dug the necklace out of his pocket and showed it to him. Lex nodded in satisfaction.

 

“Give it to Bruce before he makes his speech. And then I would keep my distance, if I were you.”

 

“Why,” Clark swallowed his anger back down his throat, “Why do you want Bruce dead?”

 

“Ignorance is bliss, Mr. Kent. Just do your job and leave the thinking to others.”

 

A sound echoed inside the room; someone was tapping on a microphone. Sofia stood on top of a stage, smiling at all of her guests. She was in a Poison Ivy themed dress.

 

“Thank you all for being here as we work on our noble cause. Before we get to business, let’s refresh ourselves with some entertainment. Bruce Wayne will give his speech later tonight, so please enjoy this specially selected music for the time being. Enjoy dancing!”

 

Clark did a double take. Dance? He hadn’t been expecting that. Just because he had super athletic abilities, didn’t mean he was a good dancer. He had gone to a lot of parties in his youth, but he never grew out of his two left feet. Many would say he was clumsy.

 

Someone tugged at his shoulder. It was Bruce, not smiling, but not frowning either. As a matter of fact, this was the friendliest he’d been with him since Alfred. He was dressed in a black suit with a monocle stuffed in his jacket pocket. He had been supplied with an umbrella to match.

 

“May I have this dance?” Bruce reached out for his hand. Clark took it. He wasn’t sure if Bruce was doing this for show or not.

 

“Bruce,” Clark spoke quietly. Lex was watching, “Joker wants me to give you something. Before you give your speech.”

 

Bruce didn’t react, “Give it to me.”

 

“Let me get changed and Superman can save Bruce Wayne.”

 

“And make it look like Clark went to Superman for help?” Clark could hear the scolding in Bruce’s voice, “No, thank you. Give it to me,” Bruce’s face did a one-eighty, as Lex had gotten closer. He smiled that same faux smile, “A gift! Really? You didn’t have to give me anything, sweetheart! Can I see it?”

 

Lex was far too close to warn Bruce now. Clark debated his options. Underneath Bruce’s kind eyes was an unspoken command: trust me. Do what you need to do in order to keep Alfred safe. Give me the necklace.

 

Clark reminded himself that this was Batman. With a heavy heart, he pulled out the Batman necklace, making sure that Lex saw him handing it to him.

 

“I remember our last talk about superheroes. Thought you would like this.”

 

Bruce grinned. To anyone else watching, he looked like a boyfriend ecstatic at a gift. Clark could see right through his act and wondered what parts of their relationship had been genuine at all. Clark’s heart leaped when Bruce put it on without a second thought. That thing was going to blow up the moment Joker decided to press his button. And Clark knew that the clown was watching. He had to be.

 

“Thank you, honey. And you’re still wearing the watch I gave you.”

 

Clark looked at the gift, feeling foolish at himself. He didn’t know why he felt that way, “Yeah…”

 

“I hope you keep wearing it. Well. I should go and get started on my speech now. Wish me luck,” he gave Clark a quick peck on the lips. Sofia was all too happy when Bruce made his way up the stand. All Clark could do was watch.

 

Bruce had something up his sleeve. He could tell. Clark just hoped whatever it was would be able to outwit the Joker and Lex Luthor.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. It's my first Superbat fic. =)


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